Initium
by shepsgirl72
Summary: When Sheppard is rescued after becoming trapped on an alien planet, his team inadvertently bring home more than just an injured colleague. Shep Whump!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc, no infringement of any rights is intended.

**Spoilers:** Possible spoilers for various episodes from all season. The story is set post Season 5

**Warnings: **Violence...of course! This is Shep Whump after all.

Many thanks to **Sterenyk Strey** for her beta, and for her patience on this occasion as the story is not yet complete.

I am posting this story before it is finished at the request of Shadows of Realm - a very supportive reader! I hope you enjoy it!

I will be posting 2 chapters per week for now, and may be able to post a little faster once the story is nearing completion. Don't worry - I will complete it because unfinished stories drive me nutty! :D

**Initium **

_Power confuses itself with virtue and tends also to take itself for omnipotence. _

_**J. William Fulbright**_

**Chapter 1**

The battle for supremacy had ended over ten thousand years ago, when the feeble Lanteans had fled for their lives, leaving behind all they had created in a weak imitation of the glory of their creators. But that hadn't dulled the need for retribution their makers felt. It still ached within their species, fuelling their ire and giving their existence meaning even after all these millennia spent unnoticed. Time was unimportant to their kind – they were both ancient and new, all things at all times – but even they felt a slight thrill at the realisation that they had at last discovered the progeny of their would be usurpers. Their incessant search for clues across the universe had finally produced results – a search that had possessed their entire existence for so long now they had forgotten what it was to be free from the anger that drove them ever onwards. And, after scouring so many solar systems, it was back in Pegasus, where it had all begun, that they had made their yearned for breakthrough. This revenge was long overdue, and now it was within their grasp.

They watched the puny humanoid figures picking their way through the stony landscape of the barren planet, formulating their plan in almost an instant once they realised just what they had within their reach. A few others had come to this planet while they had been in residence there – waiting. Even their favoured children – the Wraith – attracted by the energy the planet exuded under their creators' influence had ventured through the planet's gate, but none had shown the traits displayed by these particular travellers...or rather two of them. Those two bore a physical link to the enemies who had escaped their grasp so long ago. Now, there was a real chance to find them again and rid the universe of their arrogant self-belief once and for all.

Following and surrounding the humans, they lurked unseen, selecting just one to keep on the planet, knowing that this species were naturally less resilient when separated from their kind.

Their quarry remained unconscious of their presence, their meagre human minds too young to comprehend what they were encircled by, sensing nothing more than a change in the temperature...a breeze where none had been before. And then, just as the first three of the group reached their vehicle – a vehicle made by their enemies if they needed more evidence of theses humans' heritage – and began to mount the rear ramp, the ancient beings threw up a barrier that prevented the final member of the group from joining them.

A struggle ensued, one the humans could not win, and then they were subdued, the three they had chosen to go free eventually allowed to leave while shouting promises that they would return for the other.

His captors did not doubt they would. In fact, they were depending on it.

...oooooo...

He had no concept of time any more. He'd lost that on the third day when they'd deprived him of his watch, along with food, most of his drinks...and sleep. And still he had no idea why he was being held captive.

Sheppard and his team had been finishing up their exploration of an uninhabited planet when things had turned to crap. The data collected had shown some promising power readings when they'd sent through a MALP, but their mission to locate the source had proved entirely fruitless. There was power there all right, but it wasn't stable or from a specific source that they could pinpoint, and until they could monitor the planet over a prolonged period to discover if there was a pattern to how it moved around, it was unlikely they would be able to use it in any beneficial way. As they'd tried numerous times to examine it, it had ebbed and flowed like a tide, one moment there, the next moment dwindling to nothing as if retreating from them.

So, with McKay rambling about all the things he would need to put in place to carry out said monitoring, they had begun the two-click trudge back to the jumper, which they had left behind when McKay thought he'd pinpointed the major power fluctuations to an area dense with tall, craggy rocks, a geographical feature they couldn't possibly manoeuvre through while in their craft

The place had made him uneasy the moment he'd left the jumper, nerves twitching as he'd griped his P-90 prepped and ready for trouble. He'd convinced himself it was the unnatural quietness of the place that had him on edge. P5G 598 was a rocky wasteland devoid of life, making Sheppard acutely aware of how noise nature actually was. No leaves for the wind to rustle, no birdsong, now grass to wade through, nothing but the stark crunch of hard dirt under their boots. They were completely alone on that desolate dustball...or so they had thought.

As a result, the subsequent ambush had come without warning, not even Ronon picking up on the fact they were being followed. Their assailants had given no explanation of who or what they were, moving around them imperceptibly, but had somehow fired Sheppard across the rocky ground with the force of what felt like a lightning strike, slamming him against a solid needle of stone and preventing him from reaching the jumper his team had made it back to with some kind of invisible force shield that had pinned him in place. The others hadn't been able to reach him, prevented as they were by something they couldn't even see to begin to know how to battle.

Sheppard had ordered them to leave, an order his team had, of course, refused to follow...at first. Because at first it had seemed as if they might actually have a choice, with Ronon firing at the shield searching for a chink or area of weakness, and McKay frantically trying to fathom out just what it was they were up against with his energy reading gadgets. Then, the sensory assault had begun – lights, sounds, even smells, all increasing in vividness and intensity until they had been ready to drop. So he'd given the order again, screaming it over the maddening cacophony, and this time they'd followed it.

With some relief and more than a little trepidation, he'd watched the jumper lift shakily away under McKay's unpractised hand before he'd finally succumbed to the onslaught.

...oooooo...

He'd woken to silence, beautiful unspoilt stillness, and at first it had felt like bliss. But as the hours had ticked by while he sat in a tiny, white room, in which he could barely tell where the walls ended and the floor and ceiling began, the quietness had eventually become deafening in its own right.

After calling out until his voice grew hoarse and his throat felt like someone had skimmed it with an orbital sander, he finally accepted that whoever or whatever now had him imprisoned meant to do things under their own terms, and nothing he said or did would make a difference to their agenda.

He wished he could at least see them...put a face to his enemy to make it easier to be angry with them...but they didn't once reveal themselves to him. In fact, the only interruption to the perfect, desolate monotony of those first twenty-four hours was the sudden morphing of the structure of one wall to produce a hole through which food entered, or at least what apparently passed for food with his captors. The consistency reminded him of wallpaper paste and the colour was pretty much the same, too. He sampled a tiny amount, finding the flavour almost non-existent, although it left a chemical aftertaste clinging to the roof of his mouth that made him suspicious. Still, he felt no ill effects, so once he was sure the taste was nothing more than an effect of the mingling of ingredients, Sheppard ate until the bowl was empty. He hated being hungry more than he hated gooey and odd tasting food. He'd eaten some strange things in his time, and this was by no means the worst. It stayed put, sitting thickly at the bottom of his stomach and satiating the hunger pangs that had been troubling him for a few hours, and more than that, it helped settle one issue that had been plaguing him. If they were feeding him, they wanted him alive. That was at least some comfort. But where the hell was his team? Sure, he'd sent them away, but he'd expected them back with reinforcements by now. Unless he wasn't on P5G 598 any more...

The first two days had passed that way, no interaction other than the food passing through the morphing wall. He'd become intimately familiar with every inch of that cell in those forty-eight hours, realising there really was no distinction between walls ceiling and floor because they were all one amorphous construction, malleable to the touch, but completely impenetrable. He'd tried punching, kicking and pushing against it for all he was worth, but the walls simply stretched to accommodate his movements, always snapping back into shape when he stopped.

Physically and mentally exhausted from his attempts to persuade his captors to talk to him, Sheppard had eventually given up both that and any hopes of escape, choosing instead to save his strength and voice for a time when a better opportunity presented itself – assuming one would. These "people" had done him no real harm, aside from the bruising and headache inflicted following his collapse during his initial capture, so he supposed he could wait it out until his people found him and got him out. Maybe these 'beings' were just curious. Okay, well he supposed he could let them observe him for a while. It was no skin off his back.

That status quo had lasted for just a few hours longer once he'd made that decision. Then, perhaps mistaking his calmness for a weakening of his resolve, the onslaught began.

First, it came in the form of light and sound again, the walls glowing with such brilliance that even when he closed his eyes and covered them with his hands it still wasn't dark enough. His eyes burned, tears soaking his cheeks as he screwed them tighter shut in an effort to find some relief. It didn't help.

Then the noise began – a howl not unlike that of Wraith darts – growing steadily louder and more piercing until he was forced to make the decision of whether to protect his sight or his hearing. Not an easy choice since both were precious to him.

After a while, under the relentless deluge, he passed out, finding blessed relief in the encompassing oblivion that sucked him into its depths...

...oooooo...

When he woke after that he was still confined, and his heart sank. His watch was broken, either the sound had interfered with its workings somehow or his captors had deliberately stopped it, so now he had no idea how long he had been out for...it could have been anywhere from minutes to days, though his gagging thirst suggested it could be closer to the later timescale than the first.

Instantly, the wall cracked open, and another flavourless meal and drink slid in through the self-sealing opening. He forced himself up from when he lay on the floor and crawled over to it, throwing back the drink in desperate gulps, each easing the desert-like dryness his bout of unconsciousness had left him with. The food, however, looked less appealing to him than it ever had, and since he wasn't sure he could face being locked up with his own vomit, he decided it could wait until later.

He slumped down again, stretched out on the floor, only his head slightly raised as he leaned it against the wall behind him, a deep sense of hopelessness pervading his mind as he stared at the whiteness of his prison. He was stuck here with no visible way in or out. What if his team couldn't figure this thing out? What if this problem was just too advanced for them to resolve and this was where he spent the rest of his days? What if they had no idea where he was to even begin to try to help him?

Telling himself to buck up, he fought off those dismal feelings and focused on the truth as he knew it; he was trapped, but, if he was still on the same planet where he fell, his people at least stood a chance of finding him. That meant they wouldn't have to waste time on locating him on some undisclosed, distant planet, and could concentrate all their efforts on shutting down this prison cell and setting him free instead. But the lingering feeling of despair was never far away...always at the back of his mind...an uninvited sense despondency determinedly eating away at the last traces of his hope.

It occurred to him then that this cell might only be opaque from his side, and that whoever was holding him might be able to see him from the outside. He wouldn't let his captors see him so defeated. So he forced himself to turn and face the wall he'd been leaning against, still resting one shoulder against it because he lacked the strength to stand yet.

'Look, whatever it is I've done to offend you, I'm sorry,' he called, hoping someone was out there, listening.

He received no response. Maybe there was no one there after all.

'Maybe we can talk – work out what this is all about. If I or any member of my team did something to hurt or scare you, we're really sorry and I promise we'll make it up to you if we can.'

Still nothing. Should he continue at the risk of sounding like a scared child pleading for a second chance? No. Diplomacy wasn't getting him anywhere and neither would begging. He'd held back on threatening behaviour for days now and it had got him nowhere. Time to get heavy and hope he could shake them up a bit.

'I think I've been more than patient with you people, but I confess I'm kinda at the end of my rope now. If you don't let me outta here, my people are gonna come back and make you let me go, because they _can_ do that, and then things are gonna get all awkward and angsty and we'll probably all say things we might regret later. So, in the interests of maintaining the peace, why don't you let me go back to the 'gate, I'll tell my people that, despite your hospitality, it might be better if we don't come back here, and then we can be out of each others' hair? What d'ya say?'

Somewhere behind him, he thought he heard a whisper. He couldn't make out what was being said, but it was close enough for the source of the words to be in there with him. He spun, but saw he was still alone. In sheer frustration, he punched the wall, finding it more resistant than usual as its surface pulled taut and sent a jolt up his arm. Punishment for his audacity, he supposed.

'Okay, have it your way. But don't say I didn't warn you,' he shouted to whoever might be listening, and he was convinced now that they were listening...and watching. How else would they have known he was about to swing that punch so they could adjust the tension in those walls?

Finally, he got what he wanted. This time, they reacted.

A tiny pulse of light flashed, he heard a crack, and something hit his arm. He grabbed it defensively, and when he pulled is hand away he found his sleeve slashed and the skin beneath blistering. 'Dammit,' he hissed, wishing he'd kept some of his drinking water to use to cool it down. Whatever they'd fired at him had been damned hot. When he looked behind him, the energy pulse was nowhere to be seen. It was as if the thing had simply been absorbed back into the fabric of the cell. He supposed that was possible, since the shot had come out of nowhere in the first place.

Somewhere nearby, a voice whispered something, still not quite loud enough for him to hear.

'If you have something to say to me, at least have the guts to say it louder,' he growled, still clutching his burned arm.

The same thing happened again, the flash, the crack, and this time he felt a sharp sting in his left cheek. When he tentatively checked it, he found the skin hot and blistered in a thin line almost from the corner of his mouth to his ear. 'Crap!'

It stung like hell, but there wasn't a thing he could do to ease it, unless he slopped that gloop that passed for food on his face... Then again, he had no idea what was in it; he might just make matters worse. 'Okay...I get it...I'm not allowed to get angry,' he grunted, sitting down and leaning against the wall for support.

The physical assault stopped then, and instead the light returned to plague him, followed by the noise. Mixed in with it this time was a voice, just loud enough to be discernable though not to pick out any exact words.

Sheppard curled up in a ball and did his best to defend himself, but no matter what he did, he couldn't shut any of it out.

It was constant, relentless, over and over in the same pattern so many times he lost count. Was it days...weeks? Surely days at most; it had to be because the food had stopped appearing and his drinks were minimal, but he wasn't dead yet. How many days he didn't know...didn't care. He just knew he wanted it to stop...or at least wanted someone to have the decency to give him a reason why they thought they could treat him this way. And in the background was always that whisper, picking at him, nagging at him, uttering words that his ears couldn't fully define, but that his subconscious mind turned into the darkest of thoughts. He felt helpless, hopeless, worthless. It brought him to the edge of reason and held him there, kept him dangling, filling him with self-doubt and leaving him suspended over an abyss into which his sanity threatened to tumble endlessly. The ceaseless noise and light and pain left him certain that his mind was about to snap.

And then it did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

It was with utter horror that Richard Woolsey watched the shield drop while SGA-1 plus Dr Carson Beckett rushed through the gate dragging a near hysterical Sheppard along with them.

'Medical team to the 'gate – stat!' he ordered, descending the stairs to that level and then standing at a distance as he watched Ronon and Teyla trying their best to restrain the colonel. Despite their physical efforts and calming words, he writhed against their grip, screaming violent and colourful threats. Woolsey gaped in disbelief, noticing the colonel had blood running from both his ears, and the way his eyes rolled told him Sheppard was unable to maintain focus on anything, either. This made no sense. What had happened to him on that planet?

Whenever a team returned through the Stargate, Woolsey held his breath. A mostly office based career before venturing to Pegasus meant he had little experience of life on the front line, and he often dreaded what he might see when their teams came in "hot" as the military liked to call it.

But this...this was not a sight he had ever imagined he would see. The usually affable yet guarded colonel was barely recognisable as human, while his huge Satedan friend enveloped him in his muscular arms, cradling Sheppard on the floor as if he were a parent dealing with an autistic child in the midst of a spasm of panic.

'What...what happened?' Woolsey asked, unable to think of anything more pertinent to say.

Teyla, who was currently pinning the colonel's legs to the floor to prevent him injuring himself or anyone else in the vicinity, panted out an answer. 'We were finally able...to free Colonel Sheppard from the rock growth...he was confined in. When we reached him...he was in some considerable...distress...so, as yet...we have not been able...to ascertain what happened to him.'

The slight cracking of Teyla's voice belied the cool, logical way in which she described the scenario as she understood it, and the moisture in her eyes revealed how upset she really felt about her friend's condition.

Woolsey took another step forward, then stopped as Sheppard yelled, 'Lemme go! What do you want from me?'

'Sheppard, it's us,' Ronon rumbled, his voice deep, but gentle. 'We've got you now. You're safe.'

His words, meant to comfort, made little difference, the colonel continuing to strain against his unrelenting grip.

'I should have got him out sooner! He's been driven nuts in there!' Rodney suddenly spouted out, having been uncharacteristically quiet up until this point.

'Do not blame yourself, Rodney,' Teyla told him. 'You did everything you could.'

Carson knelt beside Sheppard now, catching hold of his face and trying to make him understand where he was. 'John...John, listen to me. It's Carson. You're back in Atlantis now. We're going to take care of you.'

Carson had no more success than Ronon. Sheppard wrenched his face away and continued to struggle wildly, kicking his way free until Carson had to help Teyla keep his lower half still.

His throat drying at the sight, Woolsey had to force out the words, 'Where's that medical team?' just as Jennifer and several of the nursing staff arrived with a gurney and their emergency medical kit.

'Carson?' the young medic queried, eyes wide with shock.

'I don't have time to explain just yet, Jennifer. I need you to help sedate him. I already gave him morphine to manage his symptoms back on the planet, but it hasn't helped.'

'How much?' she gasped, rifling through her kit for a syringe.

'180 mg so far, but it's barely slowed him.'

Woolsey saw the disbelief on her face and guessed the colonel should be sleeping soundly right now, if not worse. His command role kicked in at last. 'Dr Beckett, what exactly are we dealing with here? Is he sick? Is there any chance of a contagion?'

'No, Mr Woolsey, this is definitely not a sickness. To the best of my knowledge...and I confess I'm no expert...I believe we're looking at a severe case of PTSD...but that still doesn't explain why we can't sedate him.'

'I'll give him 20 mg more and see if that helps. I don't dare give him a bigger increment or we might suppress his breathing!' Jennifer managed to steer her syringe into Sheppard's arm, releasing its load into his system. Although it fractionally subdued his struggle, he still didn't lose consciousness.

'This is unbelievable!' she gasped. 'Carson, I'm not sure it's safe to give him any more. We could kill him.'

'If we don't get him calmed down soon there's a good chance he'll go into cardiac arrest,' Carson pointed out, wrestling Sheppard's thrashing legs back to the floor again.

'Stand back,' Ronon suddenly ordered, letting go of his friend and pulling his gun from his holster.

Without his great bulk holding him, both Teyla and Carson were soon thrown free by the crazed colonel, who was quickly clambering to his feet.

'Ronon, I'm not sure that's such a good i –'

Jennifer didn't even have chance to finish her sentence before he fired on Sheppard, the colonel falling limp and dropping where he stood.

'Ronon!' she rushed forward as Carson scrambled back to his patient and felt for a pulse. From the look of relief on his face, Woolsey guessed he'd found it. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

'Way to go, Conan!' Rodney squeaked, his mouth hanging open. 'You could've killed him you moron!'

'They needed him out...he's out,' Ronon grunted with a shrug. 'We should get him to the infirmary before he wakes up again.'

The medical team swiftly moved into action, Woolsey watching them as they co-ordinated themselves to lift Sheppard carefully from the floor up onto the gurney, and then rushed him from the gate room.

Woolsey could see Sheppard's team were itching to go with him, but he needed to know exactly what he had just witnessed and what had happened prior to Sheppard's return.

'I'd like you all to join me in the conference room for a debriefing,' he told them, hating the coldness in his voice, but it was the only way he could deal with what he had just seen. Days like this made him wonder if he'd made the right decision coming back to the Pegasus Galaxy with the city after its hiatus in San Francisco Bay...as yet, he still wasn't sure.

Ronon shot him a look that could not only have killed, but easily put him six feet under, too. Still, after a year of working with the man, Woolsey had learned Ronon respected strength of character, so, despite the fact his insides quivered whenever the Satedan turned his scowl on him, he kept his exterior steely, and that effort proved worthwhile.

Without questioning him, the Satedan turned to head toward the conference room, and the others followed obediently. Perhaps he_ was_ meant to be here, he mused, bringing up the rear...even if it was only to tame the Satedan at times like this.

...oooooo...

Sheppard's team looked anxious, tired and dirty as they took up their seats and looked toward Woolsey, waiting for his lead.

'Well, we all know why we're gathered here. I see no reason to waste any unnecessary time. Dr McKay, can you update me on exactly what happened during these past several days while you've been working on releasing the colonel?'

McKay, looking pale and distressed, leaned on the table, his fingers knitted together so tightly that his knuckles had blanched. It was true to say the man always ran the gauntlet with hypertension, but today he was more clearly than ever teetering on the brink.

'I tried everything I could think of, but nothing seemed to work...'

'Stop right there, Doctor,' Woolsey interrupted, raising his voice above that of the frantic scientist. 'Please understand that no one is accusing you of any wrong doing, I am simply trying to ascertain the facts of what we might be dealing with here.'

'Yes...yes, of course,' McKay stammered, his eyes darting erratically around the room as Woolsey watched him trying to recall the events of the past few days and arrange them into some semblance of order.

'Perhaps I should begin,' Teyla suggested, and Woolsey nodded, glad to have someone willing to fill the silence. He was always impressed with the Athosian. She was a working mother, a difficult balancing act even when holding down the most mundane of jobs, but here in the Pegasus Galaxy, where their lives were often at stake, she seemed able to carry out the roles of both warrior and mother with equal decorum and success.

'As you know, we returned to P5G 598 six days ago with a team of marines to locate Colonel Sheppard after we were forced to leave him behind.'

'He knows all this, Teyla,' Rodney interrupted, but Woolsey held up a hand to stop him.

'It's all right, Dr McKay. I'd like to run through events right from the beginning. There may be something we need to know even in the most innocuous of happenings.'

Clearly agitated, the scientist slumped back in his seat, arms folded tightly across himself. 'We're wasting valuable time.'

'Not necessarily. Ms Emmagan, please continue.'

'At first, we were unable to locate Colonel Sheppard, but then it became apparent that he was being held within one of the rocky outcroppings on the planet's surface. We still do not fully understand how he came to be there, but after several hours of confusion, we were finally able to trace him to a particular spot and begin excavating. Progress was slow as the stone was very hard –'

'It was corundum... that's crystalline aluminum oxide,' McKay butted in, although Woolsey felt none-the-wiser for the interruption.

'I see. I take it that's quite robust?'

'It's the second hardest rock mineral on Earth. Only diamond is known to be harder, so I'd say "robust" is a somewhat inadequate description, wouldn't you?' McKay spat, causing Woolsey to arch an eyebrow.

'You're not helping, McKay,' Ronon rumbled.

'Oh, and sitting here going over old ground is, I suppose?' the scientist fired back at him, his blue eyes drilling into the Satedan as if spoiling for a fight.

'If you would let us finish, we might be able to properly judge whether any of the information is of worth,' Teyla said gently, but all Rodney did was snort down his nose and jut his chin as if only he could possibly understand how ridiculous this all was and he resented the fact he was being forced to tolerate their company.

Woolsey decided it was time to bring some order to their meeting.

'I appreciate that the three of you have been through a very trying time over the past several days,' he began, the pitch of his voice rather louder and more commanding than how he was used to speaking. 'However, I believe it could be vitally important that we collect as much data as possible about what happened on P5G 598 while it is still fresh in your minds in order to assist Colonel Sheppard back to full health –'

'How?' Rodney demanded. 'How is talking about rock formations and combat engineers unlocking any of the mystery of why one of the most level-headed people I know has been reduced to a raging maniac? We're not going to solve anything sitting here, but if I could get to the lab and study some of the samples the geologists brought back, I might be able to work out just what it was that happened to him.'

Realising he wasn't going to get anything rational from the scientist, Woolsey relented. 'I'm not going to force you to stay in this meeting, Dr McKay. If you really feel Colonel Sheppard's needs are best served by your working on those samples, then by all means work on them...after you've had a post mission check-up.'

Rodney had already been on his way out of the door when he uttered the final instruction, a comment that set him muttering about more wasted time and the foolishness of Woolsey's insistence on petty protocols

Feeling a slight rush of heat to his cheeks, Woolsey's eyes fell on Teyla, who gave him a sympathetic smile. 'I'm certain Dr McKay does not mean anything he said, Mr Woolsey. He has taken what has happened to Colonel Sheppard particularly personally.'

'Really? How so?'

'As I was trying to explain earlier, we found Colonel Sheppard's subcutaneous transmitter signal operating within a large mineral deposit, but he hadn't wandered into the rock himself.'

Teyla could often be a little slow and deliberate with her explanations, something that could be a mixture of useful, but also frustrating at times. 'How can you be certain?' he asked. The planet had been deemed uninhabited before they mounted their mission, and none of them had reported encountering any indigenous life forms during their time there, so he couldn't for the life of him think of another way Sheppard had become trapped.

'As you know, we could see no obvious way into the rock formation, which is why we asked for the combat engineers and geologists to come to P5G 598 to assist us. Because of the density of the rock, it took several days to cut through to the spot where the colonel was trapped.'

He noticed Teyla share a look with Ronon as she paused, and he wondered what they were thinking. These two, so very different from himself, could be difficult to read at times.

'We found Colonel Sheppard encapsulated within a pocket of air inside the rock with no other means in or out other than that created as we worked to free him.'

For a second or two, Woolsey waited for her to continue, then his brain caught up and he realised the import of what she was saying. 'There really was no other way in or out? Then how did the colonel get in there?'

The two members of SGA-1 still seated before him exchanged another pensive look, before Ronon nodded to Teyla as if giving her his permission to express an opinion he, too, shared.

'It was as if the rock somehow grew up around him as he lay there. We had suspected he was lying within a cave, perhaps unconscious or injured, and unable to hear our communications. What we found has us all...baffled, and not just because how he came to be inside the rock formation is a mystery to us.'

'What else?' he asked, not sure he actually wanted to hear what had them so perturbed.

'The air pocket surrounding him was not large enough to have sustained him for as long as it did. We cannot be certain of course, but there appeared to be no fault in the rock surface surrounding him other than that which we created as we broke through. From what we saw, he really should not still be alive, although we are very glad he is.'

For a fleeting moment, Woolsey wondered whether Sheppard felt as happy about it, but then he pushed that thought away. The colonel was a strong man. He would recover from this...he hoped.

'There was one other thing,' Ronon suddenly chimed in.

Unused to conversation from the huge man, Woolsey signalled that he had the floor and should continue.

'When the combat engineers eventually cut through, the thickness of the stone was no more than six feet. With the equipment we had, it shouldn't have taken them so long to get through it; we should have been through long before we were.'

'That is why Dr McKay feels it so important to study the rock samples we collected,' Teyla added. 'He feels certain the mineral contains some anomalous qualities that enable it to react to our presence in some way, making the rescue far harder than it should have been.'

'You believe it might be sentient?'

With a shrug, Teyla replied, 'In truth, we do not know. But we have come across crystalline life forms before, which possessed some astonishing properties. It is not impossible that the rocks of this planet hold some kind of power and intelligence of their own.'

No, it wasn't impossible. Woolsey had very quickly learned that the Pegasus Galaxy was full of surprises and conundrums that made playing by the rules impossible on occasions. Right now, he would be willing to believe just about anything a returning SGA team reported to him. As a young man, starting his career in the government, he had never imagined that there was really any such thing as aliens, or intergalactic space ships, or sentient crystalline life forms. Once he'd been drafted into the IOA overseeing the Stargate Project, he'd quickly learned to re-evaluate the beliefs he'd held so firmly all of his adult life. This was just another of those occasions.

'If you're right, and this rock does indeed possess some level of intelligence, why was it so determined to hold onto Colonel Sheppard?'

Teyla shook her head, clearly thinking his question over. 'I can think of nothing we did that should have caused it to act in malice. Perhaps it was just...curious.'

'I see, well, thank you, Ms Emmagan, Mr Dex. Your insights have been most illuminating. Now, I'm sure you're keen to find out how the colonel is, but please be sure to get yourselves checked out while you're in the infirmary. You both look exhausted.'

'Please, do not worry about us, Mr Woolsey. As you say, we are exhausted. There is nothing wrong with us that a good night's sleep cannot fix.'

'That's good to hear...but I would still feel happier knowing the medical team agrees with you.'

'Of course,' she consented, pushing up from her seat with some effort, in fact, even Ronon struggled more than usual.

As he left, the Satedan glanced his way, and though he didn't smile, the lack of a scowl suggested he approved of Woolsey's thorough methods somewhat more than Dr McKay did right now.

Once they were gone and the doors had closed behind them, Woolsey dropped his head into his hands. Chaos threatened to break out on an almost daily basis in Atlantis, so this pressure was nothing new, but Sheppard and his team were more often than not the people he called upon most for support and solutions, and right now they were in pieces. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before reading through and gathering up the notes he'd made, scant as they were, and heading to his office to drop them off. After that, his next stop would be the infirmary for an update on the colonel's condition. Hopefully, the news from there would give him hope that this problem would not be as complicated as it currently threatened to be.

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**A/N Thanks for all the reviews, alerts and favourites. They're always encouraging for my muse! :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

Though fatigue tugged at him – the thought of a shower and a long sleep in his comfortable bed almost too much to resist – Carson wasn't willing to fully hand Colonel Sheppard over to the care of Jennifer and her medical team just yet. Never one to rest until he felt he had done everything he could, the erstwhile CMO kept a close eye on the colonel's vitals, which had been holding steady now for half an hour, the longest stretch they'd managed without dipping and then peaking in frighteningly erratic and seemingly impossible waves. Finally, they had Sheppard resting in something resembling a peaceful condition, although the occasional spasm in his body showed he was still fighting the drugs being slowly but steadily fed into his system.

Now the colonel was relatively quiet and they had scanned him for and ruled out any severe internal injuries that might need immediate intervention, they could begin the tricky task of treating his various unexplained physical injuries. The medical team had begun the process of cutting away the colonel's shredded clothing to reveal the raw injuries lying beneath. Each mark on his skin, and there were so many Carson had no hope of counting them in his current over-tired state, appeared to be a tiny burn, some of them clearly older than others. They had obviously been inflicted over a period of several days, based on the various stages of inflamation and early tissue repair they displayed, but none of them showed any signs of infection, suggesting the environment he'd been entombed in had at least been sterile. That was lucky, if anything about this situation could possibly be described as lucky. Carson shuddered involuntarily at the mere thought of being trapped in the relatively tiny space they'd found the colonel in, then pushed his own feelings aside to concentrate on his work.

Sheppard writhed again as they pulled fabric away from burns that had wept and stuck to the warp and weft of his clothing. The pain was obviously registering even through all the sedative currently wending its way through his system. How was that even possible? He should have been out cold...and for some considerable time now.

Eventually, when they had removed all the clothing stubbornly clinging to his injuries, they could see the full extent of what Sheppard had endured, at least physically. His whole body was criss-crossed by those mysterious, thin burn lines, all no more than three inches long and a couple of millimetres wide. It was as if a hot wire had been applied to his skin over and over, but the fact they had found him alone meant that wasn't possible...not by any physics he knew. Of course, that wasn't his area of expertise, so he would bow to the judgement of others with more knowledge in that field once they had catalogued his every wound.

'What happened to you, lad?' he breathed, more to himself than anyone else.

Jennifer looked up from the opposite side of the bed where she, too was examining Sheppard. 'This looks methodical...almost like some form of torture. I thought Colonel Sheppard was alone when you found him?'

'Aye, he was. I have no idea how this happened to him,' Carson sighed, straightening out the kinks in his back and rubbing his dry eyes. 'It must have been bloody awful in there.'

'Okay people. Let's get these burns cleaned and dressed while he's still calm,' Keller instructed the team. 'We've seen his resistance to the sedative, so time may be short before he starts coming round.'

They swept into action, carefully cleansing the various areas covered in those tiny burns and blisters before applying antibiotic cream and gauze dressings to provide protection against bacteria.

Carson stood back and let them work. This was a routine they would have to keep up for several days yet to ensure the burns didn't develop any infection and deteriorate, something he suspected might not be terribly easy with Sheppard in the condition he had been in when they found him. The man had been virtually feral.

'I recommend we restrain him once this course of treatment is completed,' Carson told Jennifer as the team carefully rolled the colonel onto his side to treat the burns to his back.

'Really?' Jennifer seemed genuinely surprised by his recommendation. 'We have him stabilised. Surely restraints would just cause him more distress?'

Carson knew that was true, but he didn't only have Sheppard's welfare to think about – he was considering the safety of the medical staff, too. 'You didn't see what he was like down there, Jennifer. He may be calm now, but he was like some kind of wild animal when I first got to him. He attacked me,' he lifted his shirt to show the bruising forming on his ribs on the left side of his torso, 'and I'm convinced the only reason I escaped so lightly is because Ronon was there to restrain him.'

Jennifer's eyes widened as she looked at his still developing bruises, already turning a deep shade of purple. 'You should have someone check you out.'

'No need,' he assured her. 'I know a good doctor who diagnosed bruises, nothing more.'

She shifted her gaze to the ravaged body lying before them. 'I'm surprised he could move at all in this condition. He must have been in agony.'

'Aye, I've no doubt he was, but he was also frightened and angry, and when adrenaline gets pumping, pain tends to take second place.'

'Well, those levels of adrenaline might go some way to explaining how he was able to resist the sedatives you gave him,' she said, pulling out her otoscope to examine Sheppard's left ear. 'We have a perforated eardrum here. I'm assuming we'll find the same thing on the other side since that one was bleeding, too.'

'Let me take a look,' he said, snatching the otoscope rather briskly from her hand and checking for himself. Sure enough, he could see a perforation in Sheppard's left eardrum. 'None of this makes any sense. He was encased in a rock capsule and he doesn't have any kind of illness that might affect the auditory system. What can have done this to him?'

'I gotta confess this has me baffled so far,' Jennifer conceded. 'There's no sign of inflammation, so the most likely reason would be a noise related injury.' She prised open Sheppard's left eye and examined it with her ophthalmoscope. 'Okay, we have corneal flash burns to his left eye. Not too severe, but we need to start treatment before they have the chance to get worse.'

'Corneal flash burns? Dear lord!'

'We're going to need an antibiotic eye ointment and a broad spectrum antibiotic regimen to reduce the risk of infection in any of his injuries,' she announced to the nurses working around them.

Her staff worked seamlessly, collecting treatments and implementing them as Keller and Beckett continued the examination.

A groan announced that Sheppard was starting to surface. Determined he shouldn't wake just yet, Carson dialled up the IV sedative they now had him hooked to another increment until the colonel settled again, keeping him at the minimum levels to render him unconscious. Even so, he knew they were in dangerous territory and hoped the man stayed out for a while now. Thankfully, Sheppard's vitals stabilised again and he showed no signs of a deterioration in his physical condition. Though he didn't know why, the high levels of morphine were having no obvious detrimental effect. But stranger things had happened than this in the Atlantis infirmary; as long as the morphine was having no side effects, he figured Sheppard was better off with it than without it.

Sensing eyes on them, Carson looked up to the viewing gallery to see Ronon and Teyla watching them, their expressions and posture taut with worry. He dipped his head their way to let them know he'd seen them, but he couldn't leave the colonel to speak with them just yet.

'I'll get those restraints,' Carson told Keller as the rest of the medical team present rolled the colonel onto his back and Jennifer began examining his right ear and eye.

Moments later, the colonel was resting comfortably, his wrists and ankles bound to the metal bedsides with padded leather cuffs.

'I recommend we run some tests to ensure the excess adrenaline was simply a side effect of his state of panic and not an undiagnosed physical condition. Preliminary scans show nothing, so I don't expect you'll find anything, but I'd still like to rule it out,' he told his colleague.

'I will, Carson. Now get some rest,' she smiled, squeezing his shoulder.

He would, soon, but there were people up in that observation gallery he needed to talk to first. He knew they wouldn't settle until they had all the information available on their friend's condition, and he wouldn't settle until he'd imparted it to them, either. It was the least he could do after spending the past six days watching them worrying with little they could do to help.

By the time he reached Teyla and Ronon, Mr Woolsey had entered the observation area along with them.

'Ah, Dr Beckett. Are you able to update us on the colonel's condition?' he asked in his usual polite but clipped tone.

Carson scratched his hair and yawned involuntarily, embarrassed to have done that in front of Woolsey. 'Oh, excuse me. Well, I'll tell you what we know so far, but to be honest, there are more things we don't know about his condition right now, and the more we uncover, the more of a mystery it becomes.'

'Well, let's start with what we do know, shall we?' Woolsey suggested, and that seemed the logical place to begin.

'Right, well, I estimate that approximately five percent of his body is covered in tiny, second degree burns – thin lines, each of them approximately two to three inches in length. There are dozens of them and I have no idea how he came by them.'

Mr Woolsey was momentarily distracted by the activities displayed on the screen alongside him, as antibiotic ointment was squeezed into Sheppard's eyes, and then cotton wool pads were placed over them and taped in place. 'And his eyes?' he asked.

'Corneal flash burns, suggesting he was exposed to intense UV light. Jennifer says they're not too severe, so although his vision will be disturbed for some weeks, it should return to normal as long as he doesn't experience any complications.'

Woolsey nodded, looking to the screen again as the dried blood was cleaned away from the sides of the colonel's face.

'And the bleeding from his ears?' Teyla queried.

'Perforated eardrums.'

His audience each looked as puzzled as one another.

'I know. I have no idea how that could happen, either,' Carson confessed. 'On top of that, his adrenal glands are continually producing corticosteroids at an elevated rate, much as we do when the body goes into fight or flight mode. Jennifer is running tests to rule out any physical cause for that, but I'm pretty sure this is down to his psychological condition.'

'Which is?'

Carson met Mr Woolsey's enquiring gaze with tired, blue eyes. 'If his physical reactions and the levels of adrenaline we're currently counteracting with sedatives are anything to go by, I'd say he's bloody terrified.'

'Are the restraints really necessary, Carson?' Teyla asked softly, gazing through the viewing window at her fallen colleague, her arms wrapped about her slender frame.

'In my opinion, yes. If not just for his own protection, then for the staff who have to treat him.' It suddenly struck Carson that there was one person he would have expected to see currently missing from this gathering. 'Where's Rodney?'

'He went to his lab to study the rock samples collected when we freed Colonel Sheppard,' Teyla explained. 'He believes they may hold some clues about what happened to him.'

'Does he now? Well, I've told you everything I know at the moment, and Jennifer insists I take some rest now, so if you'll excuse me I'm going to get a couple of hours sleep. Ronon, Teyla...I suggest you do the same.'

Teyla nodded and gave him a sad smile, but he could tell from the determined look in Ronon's eyes that he had no plans to rest any time soon.

'Of course, Dr Beckett. Take as long as you need,' Woolsey told him.

Carson didn't head to his room straight away, however. Instead, he sought out Rodney, finding him sitting, head in his hands at his workstation, totally still, an unusual sight under any circumstances. He walked softly behind him so as not to disturb him until he was certain it was the right thing to do.

In the silence, he could hear Rodney's laboured breathing shaking in an out of him. The man had to be exhausted; he'd barely rested for the six days it had taken to locate and retrieve Colonel Sheppard. It was a minor miracle that he was still vertical.

Eventually, Carson decided he had to say something. 'Rodney – don't you think this might be easier if you got some sleep first?'

Startled, McKay spun his seat around to face him. 'Jeez! Sneak up on a guy, why don't you? Like I haven't had enough scares today already.'

'I thought you might like to know that Colonel Sheppard is more comfortable now. We've managed to sedate him so he's no longer distressed.'

'How, by having Ronon shoot him every ten minutes?'

_Here we go,_ Carson thought, preparing for one of Rodney's fits of pique. 'Look, I wasn't too happy about that either, Rodney. But to be honest, it was the only thing that got him calm enough for us to medicate him effectively, so it looks like it was the right thing to do.'

'I know...I know...I just...it's...'

'You've never seen the colonel like that before.'

'Exactly!' Rodney lifted his huge, worried eyes to the doctor's, and Carson could tell he was looking for some kind of reassurance that this would pass. Of course, it was too early to tell, but he certainly hoped that was the case.

'Why don't we get you back to your room, Rodney? A few hours of sleep will make all this seem a lot more bearable.'

That was obviously the wrong thing to say, as Rodney's momentary quietness erupted in a volcanic burst of anger again. 'More bearable? So, if I get a couple of hours sleep the sight of Sheppard, drooling and clawing, will suddenly seem completely normal?' he squawked.

'I didn't say that, Rodney –'

'Not in so many words, no.'

Carson sighed and rubbed his face, tiredness dragging at his eyes and making them heavy. For six long days he'd kept watch with Sheppard's team while the combat engineers and geologists had struggled against the impossibly hard stone the colonel was encased within, only catching brief snatches of sleep, and he knew if he didn't lie down soon, he would simply fall down. Rodney had to feel the same levels of exhaustion, but something inside him, some misplaced sense of guilt if he knew Rodney as well as he thought he did, was driving him on. Rodney used sleep deprivation as a method of punishing himself for failures, but on this occasion, he hadn't failed at all. The problem had been beyond all of them.

'Why are you doing this, Rodney? We don't even know the stone has anything to do with Colonel Sheppard's condition, so I'm sure it could wait a few hours.'

'But if I find something unusual now, it might spare Sheppard some torment.'

'He's not in torment now, Rodney. He's sedated, his injuries are being treated, and he's probably about to get a better night's sleep than any of the rest of us. Let it go. I'm sure if he could, he would say the same thing.'

Rodney's anger once again melted into sadness, his entire body sagging under the weight of responsibility he felt. 'I guess it could wait a while. All the geologists have headed for bed and, much as I hate to admit it, I'm probably going to need more help from them with this.'

'Exactly, so let's get you to bed and you can come back and work on this with fresh eyes in the morning.'

Rodney shut down his laptop and secured the rock samples where they would not be tampered with and contaminated. Then, he ground to a halt in front of the cabinet, his arms hanging limp at his sides. 'He didn't even recognise us, Carson. It was as if he thought we were trying to kill him. If Ronon hadn't been there...'

'But Ronon was there, Rodney. And the colonel's safe now. As for his behaviour, our preliminary examination showed damage to his corneas and his eardrums, so it's possible he didn't recognise us and thought we _were_ trying to harm him.'

Rodney's face fell, and Carson wondered if his attempt to alleviate the scientist's fears had actually made them worse.

'Is he...is he going to be all right?'

Though it pained him to deliver more bad news, Carson couldn't lie to him. 'It's too early to tell, Rodney. The good thing is none of his injuries are infected, so with luck he should recover, but even in a best case scenario we're talking a month, maybe more if there are any complications.'

'And what about his mental state?'

In truth, that was the part that had Carson most worried. Six days in confinement wouldn't normally have been enough to break the resilient colonel, but his behaviour when they'd reached him could only be described as crazed. Thrashing and kicking, he'd managed to land a few good blows before Ronon had restrained him, not behaviour Carson would ever have expected from someone as genial as the colonel after a relatively short time in captivity. Pain, blindness and deafness aside, he wouldn't have expected Sheppard to react so violently unless he felt directly threatened.

'Like I said, Rodney, it's too early to tell.'

Rodney nodded, balling his fists. 'Yeah, I guess it is.'

Slapping his hand down on Rodney's shoulder, Carson gently but firmly steered him toward the door. 'Come on, Rodney. Let's get you into that bed of yours and put this day behind us.'

'If only it was that easy,' McKay whimpered, letting his friend guide him from the room.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the continued interest and all the comments. Please keep those reviews coming and they'll help me to keep up the pace while trying to finish the story. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Burning! _

His skin was on fire; blistering...charring...he could smell the heat of his bubbling flesh and it made him gag. He was burning alive...dying...and the pain just wouldn't stop.

He had to get free, had to douse the flames. But when he tried to help himself, he couldn't move...couldn't see...couldn't hear.

He was helpless.

He yelled, but he couldn't hear anything other than a muffled rumble. He strained to move his arms, feeling resistance at his wrists. Was he bound now? But he was alone. And why was it suddenly so dark? When he'd last been awake, the brightness had hurt his eyes so much he'd felt like they might just explode.

_Worthless,_ a voice hissed.

No! He was still there on that godforsaken planet...still trapped. Vague, blurred images of faces and fuzzy voices bombarded him, his warped memories taunting him with a supposed rescue that apparently hadn't come. How much longer would his captors keep him like this? What could they possibly hope to achieve?

'Lemme go!' he yelled, but the words were unclear to him, just a blur of sound amid the otherwise unspoiled silence.

He pulled harder, setting the skin on his wrists aflame. When he tried to kick, he felt the same sensation in his ankles, too. He was definitely bound. Had his captors changed tack?

_Useless. _

The word echoed around in the silence within his skull. Why was that the only thing he could hear clearly? He screamed back that he wasn't useless, told whoever was there to leave him alone – to set him free – but the voice didn't reply.

Suddenly, he felt pressure on his biceps, and fingers wrapping around his hand. They were touching him – what were they going to do to him? He wanted to pull free, but couldn't move his arm far enough to break the contact. Instead, he settled for hurling abuse he couldn't even hear clearly himself and thrashing his body, hoping whoever was there with him could understand his threats and would back off again. Whatever had captured him meant him harm, and, restrained or not, he damn well wasn't going to go down without a fight.

A sound. Outside of his head this time, Out there, in the cell, light – feminine? It could be a voice, but he really couldn't tell. Was someone speaking to him? The grip on his fingers tightened into a squeeze, and then released. It didn't feel like a threatening pressure. That was generally a gesture of reassurance, so was he among friends or was someone playing with his mind...again?

_Hopeless._

Suddenly, his whole body bust into painful awareness, as if someone had sent a fierce electrical current through him. He arched his back, screaming, at least he thought he was screaming...he couldn't be sure what kind of a noise he was making at all. He wanted the pain to stop and was trying to tell them that. Did they understand? Did they care?

The sensation of pressure on his chest pushed him down flat against...was that a bed? It felt like a bed. Atlantis?

The pain coursed through him again, burning through his whole body, and again he thought he could smell his flesh crisping. This time, he couldn't writhe because more hands were holding him down. The high-pitched buzz, broken into short bursts, really was reminiscent of a speech pattern, but he couldn't make out a single word. The tone was gentle, though – perhaps whoever was with him was trying to help him this time.

_You're ours now_, the voice claimed.

Who was that? Where were they? Why could he hear that voice and not his own? If his ears had been damaged, shouldn't all sounds be distorted? Unless...

He tried to think it through, to work out how it was possible, but his thoughts drifted as if bobbing away on a fast flowing river, quickly swirling out of his reach. No! He'd almost figured it out...

No drugs...not now...

...oooooo...

'Hey, Rodney!' Jennifer chirped, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and planting a kiss on his cheek.

'Morning,' he muttered, his response rather less enthusiastic than her welcome had been. Though normally he would be pleased of her company, today, she was just another distraction he could do without.

Jennifer looked around at his workspace, her eyes drifting across the various laptops, rock samples and scribblings that surrounded him. She obviously thought it looked chaotic, and to an outsider he supposed it would, but he knew what everything surrounding him was, and woe betide anyone who dared to move a single thing.

'Please tell me you haven't been working in here all night?' she asked.

He raised his eyes to hers, seeing the concern clearly written on her face. 'No, I got a few hours of sleep after Carson frog-marched me to my room. How's Sheppard this morning?'

'Not much change yet, but we're managing to keep him sedated and pain-free for the most part. I was expecting to see you down in the observation room, actually,' she told him, pulling up a seat and settling beside him. 'Ronon and Teyla are there already...well, to be more accurate. Ronon hasn't even left yet...'

'Well, that's fine for them because they don't have to try to solve this thing. Some of us have work to do,' he snapped, keying in an instruction to the programme examining the samples.

He could feel her eyes fixed on him, and when he couldn't ignore her any more, he finally raised his eyes to hers again.

'You know, maybe there's nothing to solve here. Maybe this was just a freak incident and Colonel Sheppard's condition has nothing to do with these rocks at all.' She picked up one of the containers, eying the rock sample rolling around within it. Rodney snatched it back and set it carefully down on the tabletop.

'We can't know that,' he snapped. 'And I'm not willing to believe it's a coincidence. The rock on that planet has to have some kind of unusual properties the way it grew up and encased him.'

'Hmmm, okay, I'll admit that's pretty weird, especially since you guys were gone for only half an hour tops,' she nodded, peering at the screens of data he'd been working on. 'But the physical problems he's experiencing might have been just a side effect of being trapped in that mineral deposit, rather than being deliberate, right?'

Jennifer was bright, but Rodney knew his work would make little sense to her. He resisted the urge to slam the laptop lid shut and point that out, knowing it was his frustration at Sheppard's situation that was making him so wired, and not anything Jennifer herself had done.

'Not in any way I can see. And there's more than just the speed in which it swallowed him up. When the combat engineers were trying to cut him free it seemed to keep rebuilding itself...no rock I know behaves that way.'

Jennifer frowned, watching him as if trying to read his thoughts. 'What are you saying?'

Throwing up his hands in despair, McKay admitted to himself that what he was really trying to say made no sense at all. 'I'm saying...I'm saying...I'm saying it was as if the rock had intelligence and was working against us. It didn't want us to get him out too soon.'

'You think the rock is...sentient?' she asked, staring at it in newfound horror.

He saw her fear and immediately regretted his words. The last time they'd come across a sentient rock of any kind had been when Sheppard had touched the crystalline life form on M3X 387, and then they had been plagued with nightmares so horrific and realistic that one member of the expedition had died and he'd almost lost his life, too. If it hadn't been for Sheppard...

'I don't know what I'm thinking,' he sighed, rubbing his face. 'I'll know more when the geologists take a proper look at this stuff.'

She wheeled a little closer, giving him a warm smile. 'I've been giving Colonel Sheppard's injuries a lot of thought. That rock, the corundum, it's like a gemstone, right? So is it possible that light can pass through it?'

Rodney shrugged, but conceded it was possible.

'Maybe the sunlight on the planet was concentrated through the stone, somehow, and it behaved almost like a magnifying glass, directing the light and heat enough to cause the burns.'

He hadn't had the time or the concentration to give such a possibility a thought, but yes, in theory perhaps it could. 'I suppose so. I'll make a note to ask the geologists about it once they're up.'

'I figure that might account for the burns on his corneas, too. And the hearing problems...I mean, I don't know much about acoustics, but perhaps the planet has some kind of natural resonance that when it builds within the rock could hit a frequency that might perforate his eardrums.'

Again, her speculation was more than just clutching at straws. The idea might actually hold water. 'Yeah...yeah...perhaps...I'll ask –'

'—the geologists. Yeah. I guess we should leave it to the experts,' she agreed. 'But there's no point in getting paranoid until we know we need to, right?'

Her words struck a chord. He suspected a lot of his concerns were down to paranoia because none of the samples had shown any kind of activity at all, other than displaying the normal level of EM energy given off by such things. Certainly there had been no evidence of sentience.

Unless...what if it really was intelligent and he was underestimating the stuff? Perhaps it was watching him, knew he was testing it and was deliberately withholding its natural capabilities. He looked up and saw the concern on Jennifer's face, realising his fears were showing clearly in his expression. He really was allowing this problem to make him paranoid. But he'd never seen Sheppard that way...so helpless...so feral...and it scared him silly. He just couldn't believe that something non-menacing had left the man in such a mess.

'Why don't you take a break from all this and come down to the infirmary with me?' Jennifer suggested, sliding her hand into his. 'I'm about to head off and get some breakfast and some sleep, but don't mind taking a detour.'

'I don't know...I have a lot to do here.'

'But you said yourself that you can't do much until the geology team report for duty and they're still sleeping off the overtime they put in on P5G 598.'

'True...' he rubbed the back of his neck, knowing he was losing the argument.

'Maybe we could go see the colonel...just for a few minutes, so you can –'

He shook his head vehemently, the idea literally making his stomach lurch. 'No...I can't...not yet. I need to stay focussed so I can help Sheppard. I can't see him like that again.'

'He's not like he was when he came in now, Rodney,' she assured him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. 'Like I said, he's much calmer. It would probably help you to focus if you saw him that way.'

'No...no it wouldn't. He's still not...not Sheppard. And I can't go and see him until I know I can do something to help. So...so please...don't ask me to...'

He knew he was being pathetic, and that part of the problem was an overwhelming sense of shame that he had been so ready to leave Sheppard on that planet when he'd given them the order to return to Atlantis and bring help. Perhaps if they'd stayed with him they could have prevented all this from happening.

'Okay, but at least stop for a while and have some breakfast with me...I could use the company.'

Although he knew Jennifer was just trying to make him feel needed to boost his ego, Rodney allowed her that small victory, flicking her a quick, tight smile and then nodding as he allowed her to tug him up from his seat.

He was ravenously hungry, but he'd been putting off a proper meal with gallons of coffee and half a dozen power bars. He supposed time out of the lab and some breakfast might be just what he needed to clear his thinking and help him understand just what they were dealing with. He refused to believe Sheppard had simply "cracked" in that rocky prison; the man had been through much worse than this and come through it reasonably unscathed. No, something had happened in that rocky prison, something that really got to him, and he meant to uncover what it was if it was the last thing he ever did.

...oooooo...

The next time he surfaced from the sedatives in his system, Sheppard found he was still restrained and deprived of his sight and hearing. But someone was there – he could sense their proximity. A hand brushed his face and he flinched away, unsure what was happening. A tugging sensation around his left eye followed, leaving tingling in the skin on his cheekbone and eyebrow and suddenly the darkness he'd been enveloped by lifted just a little. For a second he stopped struggling, as he strained open his lids and squinted into what might actually be daylight. There were shapes and indistinguishable colours swimming in his vision. The last thing he'd seen was the vivid whiteness of his cell and the brilliant light emanating from it all around him. Had he been moved? Could he actually be in Atlantis now? The same thing happened in his right eye, producing the same result. This was a good sign; it had to be.

He forced himself to stay calm, to try to focus, to listen for clues. Sounds, a broken buzzing, someone squeezing his forearm. Was that someone talking again? One of those sounds had almost sounded like 'colonel'. Could he be right? If people were calling him colonel, there was a good chance he was home.

Someone caught hold of his face, forcing his eyes wider open and making him tense up all over again, a light, too bright to face hit his eye, then something greasy and cold was squirted into them, making him wince as it stung and sent tears cascading down his temples as he tried to blink it away, then he felt some kind of pads pressed over his eyes and he was plunged into darkness again.

'No!'

His cry almost made sense to him this time, so hopefully whoever was with him understood. Someone squeezed his fingers and the buzzing took on a softer pitch. He choked back the urge to panic that was currently trying to overwhelm him and told himself to trust the signs. It felt like Atlantis...it felt like home.

_You can't trust them. _

His heart rate increased at the sound of those words, so clear...so precise. Was that his subconscious talking to him? It had to be. And his subconscious was rarely wrong. Perhaps there was something to worry about.

The tugging sensation happened in various other places on his body, then he felt fingers touching his skin, water running in rivulets down his sides as someone dabbed gently at his body, then patted it dry, and all the time he remained restrained and unable to see or hear what was going on around him. He bucked and pulled, shouting for whoever it was to get away from him as more hands pushed him down while he was methodically bathed and smeared with cold greasy ointment. He could smell it quite distinctly, since smell was one of the few senses left to him; medication, that was the odour assaulting him. He was in the infirmary, wasn't he? That meant he was safe.

_They're hurting you – they mean you harm. _

The voice seemed to be in complete conflict with what he was experiencing. There was pain, he couldn't deny that, but it was the kind of pain that told him someone was trying to help. If only he could hear what they were saying, hear the inflection in their words. You could tell a lot by the way someone said something; even if the words chosen seemed innocent, the intonation could give them a whole new meaning.

He forced himself to remain calm. One thing was for certain – ranting and railing hadn't gained him freedom yet, so keeping his cool might pay dividends in the long run. As the stinging balm soaked into his skin, and he felt dressings being applied to his body, he could hear the figures around him making sounds, possibly talking and maybe even to him. He definitely heard something that sounded like his rank again, which he hoped meant he was among friends. Then he felt that floating sensation, his mind lifting and detaching in some way as he began to fall asleep.

He didn't want to sleep so he fought it as best he could; he wanted to listen, to see, to feel. He wanted his life back to normal again...or at least as normal as it ever got in the Pegasus Galaxy.

_Worthless... you're worthless now,_ that ever-present voice whispered, but he was too tired to grasp onto the words and fathom what they meant. His mind began to float and he was once again engulfed by oblivion.

* * *

**A/N: Again, many thanks for all the reviews, alerts and favourites. I'm writing as quickly as I can, and once I'm at the stage where I just need to do final edits, I hope to be able to post more regularly. Thanks for sticking with me. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

'Nothing. Not a damn thing.' Rodney sat back in his seat, arms flapping at his sides. 'I've looked for any kinds of unusual power readings, or metamorphic properties, but I've found zip. It's just rock; there's no way it should have reacted the way it did.'

Radek looked up from his own work, his eyebrows raised. 'Yet you say this stone grew up around Sheppard in the period of only half an hour?'

'Yes. I'm almost certain Sheppard was lying exactly where he fell when we were forced to leave him, and that rock wasn't there until we got back.'

He watched Radek's frown deepen as he thought about that, trying to come up with a theory. 'Perhaps the rock only behaves that way when in its natural environment,' he offered.

'I suppose you could have a point,' McKay reluctantly mused, annoyed that the Czech had come up with that idea before he had. 'But the atmosphere on P5G 598 isn't much different to any other planet capable of sustaining human life...or here on Atlantis'

'Maybe it's not something in the atmosphere...maybe it's something in the physical environment unique to that planet.' Radek pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, wrapping his arms around himself and pushing his hands up into his armpits as was his habit when he discussed things with McKay – almost as if he suspected Rodney might chop his fingers of in a fit of temper. 'Did the geologists come up with anything useful in their studies yet?'

'Are you kidding? Those guys work in time scales so long and obscure they're never in a hurry to do anything.'

'Yes, it's a fault,' Radek snorted, chuckling to himself.

Rodney just glared at him, wondering if he'd lost his mind.

'Fault...like faults in the land...it's a geology joke.'

'No, Radek. It's a terrible joke – and this is hardly the time to go all Laurel and Hardy on me!'

Silence descended. Radek unfolded his arms and got back to his computer, muttering under his breath, 'I think I know which one _you_ are.'

Rodney chose to ignore the jibe. 'Anyway, all the tests they carried out on the planet came up empty, so I'm not expecting anything useful from them...I _have_ run a couple of theories past them regarding concentration of light and acoustics this morning, which they're currently working on...maybe they'll have some answers for those soon.' Rodney was just wishing he could fast forward time and get to the bit where he would come up with an answer when that wish in itself gave him inspiration.

'What if the planet suffered some kind of time dilation and a rock formation that should have taken thousands of years was formed in half an hour?'

Radek quirked an eyebrow, but didn't look up from his screen. 'But surely Colonel Sheppard would have aged along with it?'

'Unless it only affects the corundum on the planet.'

'And how or indeed why would it do that? And why would it grow up around the colonel trapping him, and not just grow up under him if that were the case?'

'I don't know, Zelenka! I'm just trying to think outside the box. Why is it I have to do all the theorising around here?' Rodney snapped, painfully aware of how childish he sounded the instant the words left his lips. It was too late to take it back now, he would just have to look irate and hope Radek felt intimidated enough not to comment on his idiocy.

He glared at the diminutive scientist, who simply got on with his work, muttering 'Odprejsknout!' as he typed.

Rodney didn't know what that meant, but it sounded insulting. Still, it was hard to discipline a man who could be quoting a meal from the mess hall list of specials for all he knew.

'Okay, so the time dilation is an outside chance,' he admitted. 'But the only other idea I have is that the rock is sentient, and we have zero evidence of that, either. I gotta admit, I'm struggling here, Radek.'

'It is a most unusual case,' Radek conceded, putting his bad mood aside to empathise with his confused colleague. 'There must be something that triggered the reaction in the rock. Perhaps we should go over everything you did during your mission to see if we can pinpoint an exact event that might be to blame.'

Rolling his eyes, Rodney began to recount things as concisely as he could without missing anything potentially important.

'Okay, we got to the planet and did a flyover, checking for the power signature the MALP had picked up when we sent it through the gate. We found it, but it kept moving, so we couldn't pinpoint it to a specific area. We were about to return through the 'gate when it seemed to stabilise in one place – down on a stretch of land densely covered in towers of rock. That was why we decided to land the jumper and proceed on foot.'

Zelenka rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. 'And after that?'

'We headed through the rocks on foot, as you'd expect. What else?' Rodney snapped, then he got a handle on his temper again. 'Almost as soon as we entered the rock field, the energy reading started to fluctuate, moving away from us. We followed it, but we just couldn't seem to get close to it. So, Sheppard called the mission, asked me to put some kind of monitoring in place once I had a chance to set something up from Atlantis, and we headed back to the jumper.'

'So the energy was moving away from you...maintaining a constant distance?'

'Yeah. It was almost as if we were repelling it somehow...at least that was my initial thought.'

'Yes, that is what I was thinking,' Zelenka nodded, still rubbing his jaw.

'So then we walked back toward the jumper, and we were almost there when something happened to Sheppard. I didn't see exactly what _did_ happen, but he'd been watching out six and the next thing we knew he was lying around twenty feet away, as if something had just picked him up and thrown him there.'

'Odd,' Zelenka mused.

'Well, thank you for that brilliant insight, Radek. Very useful.'

'And then you couldn't get to him?' the Czech continued, unfazed.

'No. There was some kind of force shield surrounding him. I couldn't get any clear reading from it to try to work out a frequency to shut it down, so Sheppard ordered us to return to Atlantis and get help. When we went back...well, you know the story from there.'

Zelenka nodded, his expression grave.

'So, any dazzling ideas?' McKay asked, waiting for his input.

'Well...' Zelenka paused, running things over in his mind before piecing to gather his reply. 'If I didn't know better, I'd say your theory that the rock is sentient was correct.'

'What! Really?'

'Yes, really. I think your instincts might be right. Everything you told me makes me believe one thing...that you were led into a trap.'

Rodney stared back at him, mentally running over his report one more time. When he did, he could see what Zelenka meant...the way the power had stabilised as soon as they'd made the decision to leave, the fact it located itself somewhere that drew them out of their vehicle, the way it continually retreated, drawing them further into the columns of rock, and then the force shield, isolating Sheppard from the rest of them. It all seemed too...planned.

He looked at the containers of samples sitting on his workstation. Suddenly, he felt completely creeped out. 'You know, this is one occasion I really wish I wasn't right,' he breathed.

'I know what you mean. If those rocks were able to reduce Colonel Sheppard to a quivering wreck in just six days, just imagine the mayhem they could wreak.'

'We need to instigate more stringent safety protocols when handling this stuff,' Rodney suddenly announced, gathering up the samples currently lying around the lab and locking them away again.

'Agreed. We cannot take any chances,' Zelenka nodded, following him at a discreet distance as McKay flapped and flailed his way around the room to ensure he hadn't missed any potentially dangerous materials.

Just then, Teyla entered, looking puzzled by Rodney's feverish and erratic journey around the room, with Zelenka tailing him like a loyal puppy.

'Is everything all right, Rodney?' she asked, coming to stand beside his usual workstation.

'Hard to tell...maybe not!' he blustered. Then he turned to face Zelenka, momentarily startled by his proximity. 'We need to tell the geologists about this. They're still working on samples, too. And we need to update Woolsey...'

Teyla grabbed him and turned him around to face her. 'You need to calm down, Rodney. All this rushing around after so little rest will make you ill.'

'But I have to let the geologists –'

'I will ensure everyone knows to implement the appropriate safety protocols, Rodney. Leave it with me,' Zelenka assured him.

'I am here to ask you to come with me to the observation room, Rodney?' Teyla told him, apparently trying to distract him from his current panic. 'I am sure that if you see the colonel now, you will feel much better about what happened back on that planet. You cannot take full responsibility for correcting what went wrong there. None of us could have known it was such a dangerous place.'

Rodney gazed into Teyla's brown eyes, caring but determined, and realised he couldn't postpone visiting his friend any longer. Much as he hated to see any of his friends debilitated, he was pretty sure what he imagined was far worse than the reality in Sheppard's case, and perhaps seeing him now that his condition was being managed might help to lift the weight from his shoulders.

'All right,' he sighed. 'Radek –'

'It's all right, Rodney. I know what to do,' Zelenka told him, gesturing toward the door.

Rodney nodded, glanced at Teyla, who was still waiting for him, then shuffled past her and out of the lab. If Sheppard started raving again, his nerves would be shot for good and someone was really going to regret forcing him to do this. He would make sure of that.

...oooooo...

Teyla could sense Rodney's reluctance to enter the balcony overlooking the isolation room, so led the way, finding Ronon still standing watch there.

'How is he?' she asked, resting her hands on the rail beside him.

Ronon just shrugged. 'Pretty much the same.'

She turned to look at Rodney, his face slack with sorrow and fear. 'He's...he's so still,' he breathed, grasping the rail in front of them so tightly his knuckles blanched.

'Not all the time,' Ronon told him. 'He tries to wake up sometimes, but they just dialled up the sedatives so he's quiet now.'

'Sometimes he wakes and he is still quite distressed,' Teyla explained sadly. 'But the medical team are able to keep him peaceful for the most part.' She laid her hand on top of Rodney's to offer him some comfort. 'This morning, it seemed he was able to detect light when they took off his eye pads. Though agitated, he became much calmer until the nurse had to cover them up again. I believe he is troubled by the darkness.'

'Well, wouldn't you be?' Rodney snorted. 'He can't see properly, can't hear yet, and the last thing he was aware of was being trapped. We could be anybody.'

'Just wish we could make him understand where he is,' Ronon rumbled, staring down at his sleeping friend.

Below them, the nurses were busy, rolling Sheppard onto his side and propping him in position with various pillows. This involved removing and reattaching his restraints to another place on the bed frame, so could only be done while he was unconscious.

'I hate seeing him trussed up that way,' Rodney whimpered. 'We're treating him like he's some kind of deviant...'

'It is necessary for his safety and for that of those around him,' Teyla reminded him. 'No one thinks badly of him. They are just being...necessarily cautious.'

'If we could have got him out of there sooner, he might not have suffered so much physical damage...or psychological,' Rodney sighed, shaking his head.

Knowing he blamed himself for that fact, Teyla took hold of both of his upper arms and forced him to face her. 'None of this is your fault, Rodney. John ordered us to leave because he thought that was the best option at the time. None of us knew what would happen after we left, and certainly no one could have expected the rock formations to behave in that way. It was as if they were alive, doing all they could to keep us from reclaiming him.'

'I know, but they can't be because I tested them and they're about as sentient as the bagel I had for breakfast,' he huffed.

'Perhaps that is just what they want you to find,' Teyla suggested, but she could see from the way he rolled his eyes that he thought her suggestion ridiculous.

'I've already considered that...but they would have to show some signs of life, even if it was just a higher than normal electromagnetic energy field.' He stopped talking for a moment, looking down at the sleeping colonel. 'You know, I think what we really need to do is find some way of making him understand who we are...then maybe he'll start to get better.'

Carson's arrival proved a welcome distraction, and Teyla smiled warmly to greet him. 'Carson, perhaps you can convince Rodney that he is not to blame for John's condition,' she ventured.

'I've tried, believe you me,' he said grimly. 'But you know how mule-headed he can be.'

'Do you have an update on the colonel's condition?' she asked him, changing the subject when she saw Rodney's shoulders hunch in anger.

'Well, there isn't much change, but we believe he can at least distinguish between light and dark following his reaction to the removal of his eye pads while he was awake this morning. We're not sure whether his hearing is improving at all, there's no reason it shouldn't, given time. The main thing is that he's still showing no sign of infection, so with a few more days of antibiotics under his belt, that should mean we're out of the woods and we might be able to remove the eye pads at least. That'll no doubt help improve his frame of mind. I imagine he's feeling quite isolated right now.'

Teyla looked down at John's inanimate form, his top half exposed for ease of treatment of his injuries, and his lower half covered with light blankets. He was completely still now, as Rodney himself had commented, but he would begin to rouse at some point soon, his body always fighting the sedatives.

'Do we have any more idea of why his system is producing so much adrenaline?' she enquired, seeing the doctor shake his head.

'There's no physical reason for it, so we can only assume it's a psychological trigger. We've scanned his brain for signs of injury and found the hypothalamus is showing high levels of activity, which could certainly activate his fight or flight response. I can only imagine he is having some kind of flashbacks to frightening events while he's unconscious and this is sending adrenaline coursing through him and counteracting the sedatives. But we're hopeful that when he regains his sight and hearing, and he realises he's safely back in Atlantis, his equilibrium will return.'

'Is it possible to go in and see him?' she asked, her eyes drifting back to their beleaguered friend.

'Aye, I suppose so, as long as wear scrubs and a mask to avoid the risk of infection. Come on, love. I'll get you kitted out. Ronon, Rodney?'

'I'm good here,' Ronon told him. 'The fewer visitors, the better. Right?'

'That's true, yes. But having his friends around might also give him a boost.'

'I think we should let Teyla go in for now...the rest of us can visit when he's stronger,' Rodney suggested, his eyes flicking toward Ronon for support.

The big man nodded. 'No point in risking infection.'

Teyla sensed they were both a little afraid to get close to John right now. Both of them relied on their senses so much for what they did, as they all did to a certain extent. Sheppard's loss of those basic abilities seemed to frighten them, as if getting too close might make them more susceptible themselves. Perhaps seeing him this way simply reminded them of their own human frailty.

'We were just saying how we wished there was some way of making John understand where he is, to give him a sense of place and security,' Teyla explained to Carson as they left the two men behind in the viewing balcony. 'Without sight and hearing, it must be a lonely existence whenever he wakes.'

'Aye, I'm sure it is. So, what were you thinking?'

'I am not certain. Perhaps there is something we can give him to eat or drink that would help.'

But Carson shook his head. 'He's nil-by-mouth right now because of the high levels of sedation. It'll have to be something else.'

'Then something he can smell...or touch.' She suddenly stopped, a thought occurring to her. 'Maybe there is something I can take in to him. I must go to my room to retrieve it. I will join you in the infirmary shortly.'

Searching through Torren-John's things, Teyla eventually found the item she was looking for – a small wooden shape puzzle John had bought him as a gift from a planet they had recently struck up trade with. Each shape was textured differently and a distinctive shape, and the trader had told him it was hand made...one of a kind. If John woke and felt it, he might understand he was among friends.

Carson wasn't sure about her taking a baby toy into the isolation room, but after it was scrubbed and cleansed and sprayed with a strong disinfecting spray, he finally consented that it might be useful.

With her hair covered, and wearing the appropriate attire, Teyla entered the isolation room. Carson asked for the colonel to be moved onto his back again, which the nurses did, and then he dialled down the sedative a notch or two. All they had to do then was wait.

Within ten minutes, they heard a change in John's breathing, a sign he was surfacing from the drugs and beginning to feel discomfort.

'I'll give him a dose of pain meds to keep him focused on what we're doing rather than the discomfort,' Carson said, pushing a syringe into his IV line.

The unsettled awakening continued, Sheppard apparently trying his bindings, though it could have just been random jerking movements as he woke – they had no way of knowing for certain.

Teyla edged forward and took hold of his fingers in her gloved hand, then steered the toy she had brought with her beneath them, letting go so his palm and fingers rested on the object.

For a moment, he remained completely still, perhaps puzzled by this new activity. Then, he began to tentatively explore the object, his fingers tracing the shapes and textures for a few moments before stopping and gripping the toy more tightly.

Teyla looked to Carson, who appeared to be holding his breath, waiting for Sheppard to react.

Then he did.

'Tey-la?'

Tears of joy immediately pricked at her eyes, and she darted forward to grasp his hand in hers. 'Yes, John. I'm here.' She had no idea if he could hear her, but it seemed the right thing to say. Pressing her forehead to his, she hoped he could feel her spirit, detect her essence and know she was with him and he was safe.

The heart monitor, which always registered frenetic activity whenever Sheppard was awake, gradually began to slow to a more normal rate. She watched the peaks become less momentous and erratic and felt certain he finally understood where he was.

'At-lan-tis?'

His voice was weak, but she could just make out the word. She squeezed his hand a little harder, and then moved her mouth closer to his ear. 'Yes, John. Atlantis.' She spoke the words loudly and deliberately in the hope he could hear enough to gain some comfort from them.

For the first time since they had made it through to him in his small, stone prison, a smile curled his lips. He returned Teyla's grip with a firm squeeze of his own.

She turned to see a broad grin splitting Carson's face, and he laid his hand on her shoulder. 'Well done, lass. I think you actually reached him.'

And yes, she felt sure she had. When she looked up to the viewing gallery, she saw Ronon smiling his approval, too. But Rodney wasn't there. She really wished he had stayed.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for the continued support. Please keep the reviews coming - they feed my muse. :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

After passing a further four days of almost complete blindness, punctuated only by horrible nightmares and the momentary removal of the pads covering them once each day to examine and reapply his medication, Sheppard finally heard Carson and Jennifer discussing their permanent removal.

He held his excitement in, not daring to hope until he knew for certain the pads would be gone because he knew the disappointment would be too much if he allowed himself to fully experience the joy.

Eventually, Jennifer walked toward the bed and addressed him directly. 'Colonel, we're going to give you some time without the pads today. If you find the pain bearable, we'll leave them off, but we want you to tell us if it's too uncomfortable. Okay.'

He nodded, amused by the slow and deliberate way she formed the words. The incessant buzzing in his head was subsiding now, and as long as people sat close enough to him, he could hear most of what they said without the need for the increased volume.

The tape over the pads was gently pulled away, both at the same time so he assumed Carson was helping. The pressure on his lids lifted, letting in the veiled brightness that he had missed so much.

'All right, Colonel. When you first open your eyes the blurring will be more pronounced because of the pressure of the pads. Just stay calm and give things a few minutes to settle, all right?' Carson told him, obviously hoping to dispel his initial fears before they even had opportunity to form.

'Okay.'

He cracked his eyelids just a fraction, the brightness of the infirmary a shock in comparison to the stifling darkness in which he'd spent almost a whole week. Carson had been right; his vision was incredibly blurred, not helped by the tears welling up in them as a result of the stinging. But, once those tears reduced and he was able to blink them away, things became just a little clearer. He could see the shapes of two figures leaning over him, making out just enough detail to tell which one was Jennifer and which was Carson.

'Hey, Docs,' he said, keeping his tone as light as he could manage. But though it was a relief to finally see something, the nagging worry that this might be all he would ever see forced him to ask them about his progress. 'So, I'm gonna get past the 'peeking through frosted glass' phase, right?' as he blinked away the worst of the haze.

He felt a hand rest on his forearm, on the left where he knew Jennifer was standing. 'You still have a way to go, Colonel. Your corneas sustained some burns and they take time to heal. But they're improving all the time and we're confident that you'll regain full vision over the next few weeks.'

He huffed out a deep sigh of relief. 'That's good to know.'

'In fact, all your burns are healing remarkably well, and now we've been able to remove the restraints, we should be able to take you out of isolation. Don't get disheartened. I know it probably feels slow to you, but you're doing incredibly well.'

Even after the breakthrough with Teyla four days ago, he had still woken feeling tense and threatened whenever his pain and anxiety meds allowed him to surface. Only in the past day had he truly allowed himself to believe those feelings of foreboding were just residual echoes from the trauma he'd suffered while trapped on P5G 598, helping him to move beyond them.

But now he was recovering well physically, he knew there would be a requirement for him to seek psychological help to silence those echoes completely. That was something he really wasn't looking forward to. John Sheppard did not do counselling, even though he believed in its beneficial effects.

Two more blurry figures moved into view, and from their relative heights and overall shapes he worked out it was Teyla and Ronon. 'Hey, guys,' he chirped. 'Good to see you.'

'It is good that you can finally see us,' Teyla told him. And it was only as she moved a little closer that he realised she was carrying Torren along with her.

'Ah, you've brought my best buddy,' he quipped, reaching out and fumbling a little along his chubby arm until he found the child's hand. 'Hey, Torren. How're you doin'?'

The boy squeaked a happy noise in response, which John assumed meant he was good.

There followed a discussion about his condition with his two friends, from which Sheppard couldn't help but feel a little detached. But he'd felt disconnected from everyone for days now; he supposed that feeling would pass eventually as his life gradually regained some semblance of normality.

While they talked, he tested his sight, finding he could bring things into slightly sharper focus with varying degrees of eye-narrowing. He couldn't wait to be able to see clearly again. His career as a pilot depended on perfect sight, and until it was back to 20:20, he wouldn't feel completely happy.

'Anyway,' Carson suddenly announced loudly, interrupting his thoughts. 'I'm sure the colonel would like to get a little rest now, so we'll all give you some space to get used to the changes, and then I'll supervise the move to the main ward later.'

'Okay, Doc,' Sheppard smiled in the direction of the shape most fitting his recollection of Carson's form. 'Thanks for all your help.'

'Don't mention it.'

He might not be able to see it, but he could hear the smiles in all their voices as they chattered together and left him alone again. He wasn't sure he really wanted to be alone, but after a week in isolation, he knew the best way to get moved somewhere more exciting was to play along and bide his time.

_Worthless._

And probably not to mention the fact the voices that had taunted him during his imprisonment were still haunting him...

...oooooo...

It was another five days after that before Jennifer finally agreed that he could leave the infirmary for the first time.

He begged her not to tell his friends because he wanted to take his first walk alone, somewhere quiet. Though she looked dubious, he couched his request so sweetly and flashed her his most endearing wounded puppy eyes that he knew she wouldn't refuse.

'All right,' she sighed, 'but don't go too far. I want you back here in fifteen minutes.'

He promised her he would be back on time, knowing he would break that promise the moment he was outside of the infirmary. Though solitude had seemed a prison in itself, from the moment he'd fallen on P5G 598 to the second they'd removed his eye pads, now it was something he craved. So many people wanted to visit him, so many people wanted to share their good wishes, that he'd barely had time to gather his thoughts and decide how he felt now he was back on his feet.

He headed to the east pier and stood overlooking the ocean, closing his eyes and listening to the water. He'd heard only the faintest whispers of the waves for weeks now, and he'd missed them terribly. But something was missing. He didn't feel...welcome. What was that about?

Sitting down on the pier end, he laid his palms flat against the cool metal beneath him and tried to "feel" Atlantis. There was a slight hum in his mind, but it was distant at best. So not only did he feel detached from the people he had previously been closest too, but now from the city itself. He hoped it was only temporary, just like the problems with his sight and hearing had proved to be.

A sharp pain behind his left eye heralded the onset of a headache, one that throbbed right down into the back of his neck. _Great, a migraine. Just what I need._

Both Carson and Jennifer had warned him he might experience headaches more frequently following the damage to his ears and eyes, and that the increase might last for a few weeks or even months yet. Determined not to give in to it, he remained sitting there, eyes closed against the brightness of the sun, seeing the colours dancing at the periphery of his vision. _I am not going back in yet_, he told himself, listening to the waves and breathing in the saltwater air. This was what he'd longed to be part of again since falling foul of whatever had ambushed them on P5G 598; he wouldn't be driven back to the infirmary just yet.

The pain increased, feeling like a knife stabbing right through his eye. He pressed the heel of his hand to it, but it did little to alleviate the discomfort.

_Worthless_, a voice hissed so loudly he turned to see who was with him.

No one. He was alone, just the way he'd wanted it. He hoped these echoes passed soon, they were really beginning to get to him, sapping the joy out of his recovery...out of everything in fact.

Another pain made him hiss, and he opened his eyes to find he was swaying backwards and forward precariously on the pier end. Pushing back to a safe distance, he caught his breath as another wave of pain engulfed his skull, leaving him doubled over and clutching at his temples.

_Usurper!_

The force of the accusation sent a physical jolt through him. Usurper? What the hell did that mean? More worrying, that was a word he'd never heard the voices use before. If these sounds and whispers were mental echoes, surely they wouldn't throw new insults his way? He had to tell someone. He began to struggle to his feet.

The pain intensified, dropping him to his knees where he remained quivering and panting until it crested and subsided, allowing him time to recover himself.

That seemed like something else he should mention, until he felt it build again. The only thing that stopped the agony was not thinking about it at all. Then, he couldn't even remember what he had been thinking about when the pain got bad. And he still couldn't recall it, even when Jennifer's voice through his earpiece broke into his solitude, calling him back to the infirmary. Pushing up to his feet to take a steady walk back to the ward, he figured he would remember whatever it was eventually. Maybe it just wasn't that important.

...oooooo...

Of course, it was inevitable that to prove himself fully recovered he would have to attend a session with the resident psychologist, so Sheppard went through the motions, turning up at his allotted time and activating the door chime.

Dr Smithson bid him enter and watched him all the way to his seat, her eyes never leaving him, like some kind of bird of prey watching its next meal's desperate attempts to hide.

Sheppard sat down in the seat evidently meant for him and fidgeted, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings. This was a room occupied by two psychologists before her, but he'd made a habit of avoiding the place thus far. Wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs, he waited for her to say something.

Dr Smithson pulled her eyes away from him to look at her laptop, then raised them back to him, one eyebrow arching. 'Your file seems rather light for someone who has been through the experiences your personnel and medical records list, Colonel Sheppard,' she started in an accusatory tone.

'Is that a problem?' he asked innocently, blinking back at her.

'Well, I would have to say I'm concerned by anyone not moved by the experiences you've lived through...but...when I balance that with what I hear about you from other people, I can only draw the conclusion that you are the type of man who prefers to deal with his problems himself.'

Though his initial instinct was to deny he had any difficulties at all, he realised to do so would make him look like some kind of heartless killing machine, something he most definitely was not. 'That's a fair assessment,' he eventually conceded, feeling that didn't give too much away.

A few seconds passed in silence while she stared at him, her neat, grey bob cut framing her thin face. He put her at approaching sixty in years, although he wasn't always that good at judging these things. And she was bony, the knuckles of her thin fingers like knots tied in ropes. He decided she should probably eat more and that might improve her mood – McKay was always foul when he was hungry.

'So, your recent problems have forced you to finally break your silence?' She broached it as a question, but he figured it was rhetorical, the very fact he was sitting in her office answer enough as far as he was concerned.

She scrolled down something on her screen, her eyes darting about as she skimmed the file she was perusing. 'It says that when you were discovered on P5G 598, you were incoherent, screaming and fighting against the people there helping you. You've made an amazing recovery, all things considered."

'I guess,' he agreed, wondered what point she was trying to make.

'Can you tell me why you were behaving that way and what has changed now?'

A dull ache kicked in behind his left eye, and he cursed the threat of yet another killer headache. 'Not really. I don't remember much.'

'I see.'

Her tone suggested she didn't believe him, and based on is previous reluctance to share, he supposed he couldn't blame her. As he squirmed in the strained silence between them, he noticed a photograph on her desk, a very pretty woman cuddling cheek to cheek with an impish little boy.

'That your daughter?' he asked.

She held his gaze without a flicker of emotion, as if trying to read something into the question, but there really was no hidden meaning, Freudian or otherwise. He was just curious...particularly since the woman held no resemblance to Dr Smithson that he could see.

'My niece and great nephew, actually.'

'Cute kid,' he told her, pretty certain she wouldn't appreciate any comments about her attractive niece.

'Yes...yes he is. His name is John...like you.'

He looked at the dark haired, freckle-faced boy and for a moment was transported back to his childhood, running around his parents' vast backyard pretending to be an airplane, with Dave running alongside him.

_Worthless._

Sheppard didn't allow any reaction to show in his expression. For two days the voice had been conspicuously absent from his mind and he'd thought he'd finally kicked it out. Its return was both unwelcome and a little frightening. Still, he was in the right place now. He figured if anyone could scare that voice away, it was Dr Smithson.

A sharp stab in his eye caused him to hiss, squinting against the pain.

'Colonel Sheppard? Are you all right?'

When the pain subsided enough for him to remember where he was, Dr Smithson had rounded her desk and placed her hand lightly on his back without him even noticing her move...as if he had lost a few second somewhere.

'Yeah...yeah, I'm okay. Thanks.'

She stood straight beside him, rigid with tension, then, after waiting a few seconds longer as if ascertaining he wasn't about to pass out on her smart, tiled floor, she resumed her seat.

'I take it Drs Beckett and Keller are aware of the headaches?'

'Yeah...' And it wasn't a complete lie. They'd warned him it could happen, so he supposed he'd stopped mentioning them as much lately, figuring he just had to ride the pain until they eventually stopped plaguing him. Somewhere in his subconscious, his old self was telling him he could deal with them on his own, that was why he didn't speak about them...wasn't it? His head throbbed when he tried to think what else could be causing it, fogging his thinking, and making him forget what he'd meant to speak to them about anyway.

'You are aware that headaches can be a physical manifestation of a deeper psychological problem?' Dr Smithson asked, her piercing gaze pinning him to the chair.

Headaches, that was it. 'Yeah, I've heard that somewhere,' he said casually, 'but I'm pretty sure having your eardrums blasted until they burst can do that to you, too.'

'Hmmmm.'

_She doesn't trust you...no one does._

Okay, that was new. The voices in his head where obviously feeling more loquacious this morning. But he would ignore them, just as he always did. Carson kept telling him any lingering effects of his confinement would eventually pass, and he looked forward to the day he could lock the annoyingly disparaging companion in his head away in the deepest darkest corner of his psyche from where it would never return.

'Do you remember anything about your period of confinement at all, Colonel Sheppard?' Dr Smithson pressed, her pale eyes unwavering as they met and held his again.

He tried to cast his mind back, to recall details, but anything that flashed into his mind simply slipped away before he could mentally lasso it and haul it in. He shrugged, feeling the slight pull of the healing burns on his shoulders and back. 'Nothing concrete...no.'

'How about something...fluid?'

An increase of the pain in his eye when he tried again forced him to let it go. 'Nope...sorry. I really don't remember anything.'

She typed something, though what he'd said that could be of any use was a mystery to him.

'Colonel Sheppard...can I call you John?' Sheppard nodded, having no problem with that. 'John, are you familiar with the term "suppressed memories"?'

His stomach did a nauseous somersault. Oh yes, he was familiar with that term. 'Of course.'

'Good. The brain is a remarkable thing, protecting us from memories too traumatic or complicated for us to deal with until a time it deems fit for them to resurface.'

He narrowed his eyes, and folded his arms over his chest. 'And what does that have to do with me?'

'I believe that might be what you're experiencing, John. You were trapped in that stone prison for six days; it's hard to imagine how you can't recall even a moment of that incarceration. Suppression is the only logical conclusion to draw.'

'Unless I was unconscious,' he pointed out.

That seemed to catch her out. 'Unless that, yes,' she conceded. 'Were you?'

Her eyes drilled into his again, and he shifted a little, clearing his throat and shrugging to do something to fill the embarrassing silence hanging around them again. He knew he hadn't been, but it just seemed easier to let her think he might have been. He fidgeted again, running a finger around his collar.

'Do you find silence uncomfortable, John?'

His mouth twitched downwards, and again he shrugged. 'Not usually, no?'

'Is this something you've experienced more since your confinement?'

'More since I entered this room, actually.'

She smiled for the first time, and he relaxed a little. He liked it when people smiled at his jokes, even when there was more than a modicum of truth in them. Humour had helped him out of a lot of tight spots in his life; hopefully it would get him out of this one, too.

'I see,' she smirked, typing something else into her laptop.

He hated being observed and analysed. He was what he was. One hundred percent John Sheppard. There was no one else like him, so the idea she was measuring him against what she considered to be the "social norm" was incredibly irritating as well as nonsensical to him. Who the hell knew what normal was supposed to be anyway? People adapted to fit their environments, and in an environment as crazy as the Pegasus Galaxy, it helped to be a little left of centre.

'All right, John. I think that's enough for today. Dr Keller advised me not to push things too far with you since you're still in the early stages of your recovery.'

'Great, so I can go now, right?' he said, slapping his hands down on his knees and preparing to push up from the chair.

'Wouldn't you like to hear my initial assessment?' she asked, her smile now more fixed.

He leaned back in his seat, trying to retain his relaxed demeanour, but feeling suddenly anxious. 'You've done that already?'

'Oh yes. I'm a fast worker.'

He chewed his lip, then waved a non-committal hand her way. 'Sure. Fire away.'

She leaned back in her seat, resting her elbows on the arms of her seat and weaving her skinny fingers together in front of her like some movie villain. 'I believe that you are a very charming and intelligent man who is capable of working out and saying exactly what you think I need to hear to believe you are coping. But I am an intelligent, if not charming, woman, who has seen all the tricks in the book. You might be able to pin on a smile and tell me what I need to hear, but you can't hide the truth written there.'

She pointed at his eyes, then knitted her fingers together again with a victorious smile.

'I can see the pain you try to hide, John, and I intend to help you release it. I'm going to recommend a minimum of six sessions to begin with, and we'll see where it goes from there.'

'What? Look, I appreciate your concern, but I'm really not in any pain –'

'You might not think so, but I've worked in this business long enough to recognise a troubled mind when I see it. I want you back here on Thursday at 1600 hours for our first full session.'

'I'll have to check my schedule...'

'You're free, John. I've already checked with Mr Woolsey and your doctors. They have no plans for you to undertake any duties of any kind for the next week at least...not even paperwork. So I'll see you then, okay?'

He felt his brows pucker into a frown, his brain running through a dozen reasons why he couldn't be there.

'I have the power to make this an order if it helps you make up your mind,' she told him, leaning forward on her desk. 'A quiet word with Mr Woolsey and he can force you to do this, but it will look a lot better on your record if you volunteer.'

Feeling cornered, and with his headache worsening, he decided to agree and try to figure a way out of it before Thursday rolled around. Atlantis was a magnet for trouble. Something was bound to come along to distract everyone by then.

'I guess I could give it a try,' he agreed, giving her a brittle smile. 'So, can I leave now or would you prefer to tighten those thumb screws a little more before I go?'

She laughed, typing something else as she spoke. 'I don't enjoy putting pressure on my clients, John. But sometimes, it becomes clear it's the only method that will work.'

'Don't tell me; beneath your cold exterior beats a heart of gold,' he quipped, rubbing at his temple and closing his eyes through a wave of dizziness.

'No, John. No heart of gold, just a determination not to tarnish my record of helping every patient I've ever counselled. I'll see you on Thursday.'

Figuring that meant they were done, Sheppard pushed carefully out of his seat so as not to aggravate any of his healing burns and headed for the door, checking back when he reached it, but finding her attention still on other things. He headed out into the corridor, his mind racing. He really didn't want to talk to her, be he sensed he'd met his match in Dr Smithson. Part of him was afraid of opening up; he believed it was the secrets he kept and the pain he held deep within him that made him the man he was, a man willing to do anything to keep Atlantis and those within it safe.

Much as he hated the idea of ruining Dr Smithson's perfect score card, some things were simply more important.

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**A/N: Again a big thank you for the reviews and encouragement to keep writing. They're much appreciated. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 **

Rodney couldn't avoid Sheppard as he walked into the mess hall and found him breakfasting with Teyla and Ronon. He'd done everything he could to keep the excuses for his minimal visits to the infirmary coming, but now he'd been officially released, Sheppard was going to be able to hunt him out wherever he tried to hide. He still felt like a failure over what had happened on P5G 598, and facing Sheppard was a reminder of his painful inadequacy where his friend's rescue was concerned.

'Sheppard. Finally escaped from the infirmary, huh?' he quipped, giving him a lopsided smile as he took up the empty seat opposite him.

'Well, she's a hard woman that girlfriend of yours, but I managed to talk her round,' Sheppard fired back at him.

'So...you're all better now, right?'

Sheppard looked at him, a hard, penetrating look that felt far more intense than the question required. 'Why? Would you prefer not to have me around?' he asked.

'No...no, of course not. Why would you think that?'

The colonel shrugged stiffly, his skin evidently still sensitive from the punishment it had taken. 'Oh, I don't know, maybe because I haven't seen you for two days.'

'I...I've been busy...' Rodney explained. Then, more quietly, he added, 'Sorry...I should have made time.'

'Yeah...you should have.'

This felt awkward. He darted his gaze first to Teyla, then to Ronon, noticing their concern, too. It seemed he wasn't the only one who thought Sheppard's comments were uncharacteristically harsh.

'So, what have you found out about that rock?' Sheppard asked, breaking the tense moment. 'Anything useful?'

'Not much...actually,' Rodney confessed, barely able to meet Sheppard's continued scrutiny. 'I've run every test I can think of, so have the geologists, but we don't know how that rock grew up around you as fast as it did, or how you didn't suffocate. It isn't porous enough to let in air, and it was too opaque for the sun to have caused your burns. And there's no way you should have had perforated eardrums that we can figure out. Maybe if you could remember something...'

'You're turning this round on me now? You think your lack of progress is my fault?'

Rodney dropped his spoon into his bowl under the ferocity of Sheppard's glare, unable to eat his breakfast. 'No, of course that's not what I meant. Why would you say something like that?'

The colonel finally turned away, looking toward the window. 'When you say stuff like that, what am I supposed to think? Maybe you should just let the whole thing drop. '

Rodney couldn't believe he'd suggested that after all the work he'd put into that damn rock. He whole subject of what had happened to Sheppard on that planet had become an obsession for him. Now the colonel thought he should simply give up? 'You're kidding, right? I've been working to try to find answers for you for weeks, Sheppard. Aren't you interested in knowing what happened on P5G 598?'

'Not really. It's done...it's over...we just don't go back there and everything'll be fine.'

Rodney's eyes drifted to Teyla, as he wondered if he was the only person sitting at that table who thought that response was odd. The way she now frowned back at him told him he wasn't – something he was greatly relieved about.

'Are you feeling unwell, John?' she asked, her gaze darting about the others as Sheppard's shoulders instantly hunched. 'You seem a little...agitated.'

'My body is covered in tiny patches of raw skin, my ears are still perpetually buzzing, and my head is pretty much teetering on exploding all the time – how am I supposed to feel?' he snapped.

Around them, other diners had obviously picked up on the tone and increasing pitch of Sheppard's voice. The crew at the tables closest to them fell silent as if waiting for the next instalment of a gripping TV drama.

'Perhaps you should speak to Drs Beckett and Keller about this. I'm sure they could find some way to manage your pain,' Teyla offered tentatively.

Her caution was uncustomary when dealing with Sheppard, but apparently well judged when he barked, 'You mean more drugs? Don't you think I've had enough of that crap pumped through my system over the past few weeks?'

Noticing everyone else's interest for the first time, Ronon's lip curled, his glare sharpening as he scanned around them, making their audience snap their heads back around to their own tables and get on with their meals. Rodney decided that sometimes, having the biggest and meanest man on the base as a friend was pretty useful, even if Sheppard himself was giving the Satedan a run for his money on the mean front this morning.

'You know, a couple of Tylenol might just take the edge off things,' Rodney told him, reclaiming his spoon and managing a mouthful of cereals. 'For all of us.'

'I'm sorry if my sickness is uncomfortable for you –' Sheppard began, but Teyla reached over and placed a hand gently on his forearm.

'You are among friends here, John. We understand your...frustration with your situation. But if you are in pain, we only wish to find ways to help you.'

Sheppard stared at her hand as if it was something completely alien and he was contemplating shaking it off in disgust. Rodney looked at it, too, seeing the criss-cross of pink scores across the skin lying beneath it. That had to hurt; he'd burned his hand on a hotplate a couple of weeks ago, the day before all this trouble had kicked off in fact, and it still felt a little tender now. So, maybe he should cut Sheppard some slack. The bad mood wasn't something they were used to, but he'd been a party to one of the weirdest anomalies they'd come across, so he guessed he could forgive him a few tetchy moments.

'Any idea when you'll be back on duty?' Ronon asked, breaking his silence from his slouched position beside the colonel.

Sheppard shrugged, throwing back some coffee. 'Nobody's saying anything. I think I have to pass my test with Dr Smithson first.'

'You're seeing the shrink?' Rodney almost choked over another spoonful of his breakfast. 'How the hell did they manage that?'

Teyla shot him a withering look, and he immediately regretted his outburst. The fact Sheppard was talking to a psychologist was a minor miracle in itself – he didn't need anyone making a joke out of it.

'That's a good thing...right?' he ventured, watching Teyla's poise relax again.

'So I'm told,' Sheppard scoffed, though his bitter tone suggested he doubted the validity of that claim.

'Well anything that helps you to move past this has to help.'

Sheppard's eyes met his, strikingly green in the morning sunlight streaming into the mess hall. 'What will help is everyone forgetting what happened and letting me get back to doing what I do best,' he growled, his grip in his coffee mug so tight that his hand appeared to be trembling.

Rodney's throat dried at the sight of the quivering surface of Sheppard's drink. They'd thought the worst was over for Sheppard once Teyla had made a breakthrough with the wooden toy, in fact, the rate at which he had recovered his senses had been nothing short of miraculous, but now it seemed the colonel was still dealing with things they had no idea about in his usual private way. But trembling? That couldn't be a good sign.

'So, who's heading up the team in my absence?' Sheppard asked, changing the subject completely.

'Lieutenant Andrews,' Teyla replied. 'Major Lorne felt it would be good development for him, but...'

She hesitated, and Sheppard flicked his gaze her way. 'But what?'

'He's not you,' Ronon finished.

'Lucky him,' Rodney heard him mutter, hardly able to believe he'd heard him say that. Sheppard was normally so confident, so positive. Did he really wish he wasn't John Sheppard any more?

'Truth is, although he has military know-how, he doesn't have all the qualities needed to fill your boots,' Rodney added, hoping to give him a boost.

'Such as?'

'Such as...presence. He's kind of quiet compared to you.'

'Thanks for that,' Sheppard smirked, the closest he'd come to a smile for the whole conversation.

'And he's not so hot on the crazy plans to get us out of trouble,' Rodney added. 'I kind of miss the pressure of you coming up with almost impossible schemes and demanding I find a way to make them work.'

Now Sheppard actually managed a laugh. 'You just make them seem that way so when you make them happen you look like an even bigger genius,' he snorted.

'I resent that accusation,' he shot back, but he didn't really. He'd missed the banter of their old friendship over the last three weeks, and it was good to get even a momentary glimpse of it now. 'Of course, it's completely true, but I resent it all the same.'

As he grinned back at Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon's expressions showed they, too, were enjoying the fun. But then a change came over Sheppard's face, his mood darkening in a matter of seconds. 'You're so arrogant,' he growled. 'The universe is vast and old and there are some things you can never hope to understand. Hasn't this experience taught you that?'

Sheppard was the picture of rage, veins bulging, face flushed, hands clenched into tight fists. For a moment, Rodney actually feared for his life until Ronon interceded. 'Give him a break, Sheppard. His been working non-stop on this thing for weeks.'

Sheppard blinked a few times, his colour returning to normal. 'Yeah...I know...Sorry, McKay. I don't know why I said that.'

'Apology accepted,' Rodney squeaked.

Seemingly embarrassed, Sheppard leaned back in his seat, suddenly disinterested in eating. Then he spoke up again, this time unable to meet his friend's eyes. 'But I do stand by what I said. Sometimes, there might be things in the universe we're just not smart enough to understand yet. I think you should drop the tests and just let it go. You've wasted enough time on this wild goose chase.'

'But...but...you got hurt...other people could get hurt...'

'Not if we don't go back there. We lock the address out of the gate and we put the word out to any other civilisations we meet, Wraith excepted, of course.' He flinched, rubbing circles on his temples. 'Look, I'm kinda tired so I'm gonna go take a lie down. See you guys later.'

Rodney watched him go, his jaw hanging open and eyes wide. 'Okay...did anyone else think that was weird?' he asked quietly.

'He has been through much, Rodney. Just give him time,' Teyla urged. 'Now, I have Bantos classes until lunch, so I will see you both later.'

And that left just Ronon.

Rodney looked at the Satedan, who simply stared back at him, his expression inscrutable. Then he spoke. 'You need to keep working on that rock,' he grunted, pushing away from the table and heading out of the mess hall.

Rodney looked around him, the other diners flashing furtive looks his way now Ronon's menace was gone. Much as he hated to admit it, the big guy was right. Sheppard wasn't himself, and in the absence of any other clues to work on, the Satedan's advice was the only course of action open to him.

...oooooo...

He barely felt the floor beneath his feet as he walked – barely felt the thrum of Atlantis' power, which disturbed him even more. People smiled as they passed him in the corridors, but he didn't respond, needing to get away from them all, to have some time alone to...decontaminate. Sheppard reached his quarters and dropped down onto the bed, ordering the room to darken. It seemed hesitant, then followed his instruction, casting the room in shadows as shields covered the windows, shutting out the nurturing sunlight. Being among others was exhausting, their trivial lives an irritation he could do without enduring today.

The relief to his budding migraine was instant and welcome, the heat in his aching brain subsiding and the drumming sensation dropping to an annoying but eminently more bearable nudge from time to time. He sat on the edge of his bed, head bowed, hands clasped, recalling the last time he'd sat in his room like this. Then, he'd been going through a process of change, his DNA converting him into a creature best left to nightmares. He couldn't recall his nightmares any more. He woke each morning feeling certain his sleep had been restless, but not a single image would surface when he wondered what had troubled him. That wasn't like him; he rarely slept deeply enough for his dreams to completely escape him, and it didn't even feel like his dreams _were_ escaping him, more that they were blocking him. That was most likely nonsense, but it was how it felt, all the same.

He thought about his conversation in the mess hall with McKay. Conversation...that was a polite way of putting it. It had been more like a character assassination, and he had no idea where it had come from. He hadn't intended to spend his first breakfast with McKay in three weeks making him feel bad, but he hadn't felt able to stop himself, either. For a moment, he'd felt nothing but contempt and hatred for the man, emotions that had no place in their relationship. That wasn't how he felt about any of his team.

He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. That previous occasion when he'd felt the need to encase himself in darkness, he had felt like John Sheppard trapped inside a body that was betraying him, his mind desperately trying to cling on to the shreds of his identity. Now, he looked like himself, but he felt different inside, no longer the old John Sheppard who had claimed residence for forty-two years but someone completely different, someone who didn't belong there now.

_You don't belong on Atlantis, and your friends don't want you here._

Oh great, and now the voices wanted a piece of him, too.

'Just get out of my head,' he grumbled to himself, tired of his self-doubt's vocalisations.

_We have grown accustomed to our meagre surroundings. We do not wish to leave._

Sheppard's skin prickled at the odd response. Much as his subconscious picked at him at times, it rarely, if ever, answered back.

'Wha...t did you say?'

_We have no intention of leaving, John Sheppard. We have waited thousands of years for this chance to avenge ourselves, and we are not about to let it go._

He darted through to his bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror, seeing no outward signs of this apparent manifestation. He pulled at his eyes, seeing nothing untoward and experiencing nothing other than the residual blurring his injuries had caused.

'That's it...I'm officially loosing it!' he breathed, seriously taking in his reflection for the worst time in weeks. 'Worthless,' he heard himself whisper.

He stumbled back. He hadn't wanted to say that...didn't even believe it...not really. 'Who are you?' he asked, taking the voice more seriously now.

_Our name is of no consequence to you_, the voice told him.

'I don't know. I like names, gives me something to yell when I'm cursing you.'

The flash of pain in his head buckled his legs beneath him, sending him down on his knees.

_You cursed us well enough without knowing it before. _

Memory suddenly rushed in on him; white walls that stretched but would not break, noise, light, the pain of the energy bolts striking his skin, and the voice constantly digging away at his confidence. Now he understood what had happened in that cell, they had worn him down mentally and physically to a point when he could no longer keep them out. Whoever they'd run into on P5G 598 had wanted to get into Atlantis without being detected, so had hitched a ride with him.

'What do you want?' he demanded, wishing the recollections would stop long enough for him to think clearly about this revelation.

_To prove you unworthy._

'Unworthy of what? I don't understand.'

_You don't need to. You only need to do our bidding._

'Not gonna happen,' he assured them, but his confidence was misplaced, and he soon realised that.

_You have no choice in the matter,_ the voice told him. _We now have control of this body and mind, and will use it as we will._

As if to demonstrate that, he felt his temperature begin to rise rapidly, his skin becoming sticky then saturated with sweat in only a matter of minutes.

'Stop...please!' he gasped, trying to crawl into his bedroom where he'd left his earpiece. He needed to call for help, to let others know they had a foothold situation. But his body wouldn't obey him. No matter how much he urged it on, it got no further than the doorway before he lost complete control and crumpled to the floor.

_We are Initium_, he heard many voices rasp as the edges of his vision began to close in on him. _We are the first and we will be the last. Those that challenge us must fall._

Then all was silence.

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**A/N: Once again, thanks for all the comments and alerts. It's always good to hear what readers think! :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

'Dr Beckett, he is waking.'

The slight panic edging Teyla's normally calm voice brought Sheppard more quickly back to wakefulness, the steady electronic beep keeping perfect time with the throbbing of his head now telling him he was back in the infirmary.

He forced his reluctant lids apart, seeing Teyla's concerned face leaning over him. That expression was a sight he had grown very familiar with these past few days. He closed his eyes again, wishing himself out of there, but it didn't work.

'John...can you hear me?'

He could, but he couldn't find the energy to reply, so settled for a nod instead. That appeased her, and he heard her exhale, taking his hand between both of hers to let him know she was still with him.

Around him, the medical team arrived, led by Carson. 'Now, Colonel. I was really hoping not to see you in here again so soon. Can you tell me what happened?'

He forced his eyes open. His memory felt like a gaping void – he was standing on the edge of it trying to see the bottom, but it was just too far down to see. 'I...I guess I just passed out.'

'Have you eaten today?' the doctor asked him, making notes.

He had a vague recollection of breakfast in the mess hall, of an argument, and of losing his appetite. 'Some...not much.'

'You really have to look after yourself, Colonel,' Beckett chastised. 'You're still recovering from some serious injuries; you can't afford to go skipping meals that way.'

Sheppard adopted a suitably sorry expression and apologised for scaring them, promising not to do it again. But at the back of his mind a little voice told him the doctor should mind his own business...that he was a busybody with no right to tell him how to live his life...and he kind of agreed with the sentiment.

'I'll organise a meal for you once we've run through our checks,' Carson told him, shoving a thermometer into his ear.

'Perhaps I could see to that?' Teyla offered, and the doctor nodded his agreement.

'That would be a big help, love. Plenty of complex carbohydrates, mind. We need to get his energy levels up.'

She nodded her understanding, giving John a smile before disappearing.

As the other staff finished up their tests, they began to scatter to their various duties around the infirmary, leaving Carson and Sheppard alone.

The doctor, stood back, folding his arms over his chest and giving him a knowing look. 'I spoke with Rodney earlier,' he began, leaving it there no doubt to see how he would answer.

'Oh?' Two could play at that game.

'He said you were pretty hard on him...very critical, in fact.'

'You know, Rodney. He's just highly strung...'

'Aye, that he is, but Teyla agreed that you were behaving somewhat out of character...Ronon, too. And when all three of them are worried, I sit up and listen.'

_Your friends don't trust you._

That voice. It had said something important to him before he had passed out, he was sure of it, but what was it? The more he groped around in his muddy memory, the deeper he sank in the mire. Nothing would surface, and all he got for his trouble was an increase in the throbbing behind his eyes.

He could see Carson was waiting for some kind of answer, but what was he supposed to say? Yes, he'd been hard on Rodney, and no, he hadn't been fair, but he hadn't meant to do it – the words had just fallen out of his mouth as if he had no control over them. 'What can I say? Everyone has a bad day.'

It wasn't much of an excuse, but it would have to suffice for now.

'Have you been sleeping, Colonel?'

He had, though he never felt fully rested, and his mind always seemed swamped in confusion whenever he woke. It wasn't sleep as he remembered it. It was just something his body demanded he do each night, but it apparently had little or no restorative value. He just wanted to sleep the way he used to...to feel the way he used to. He was tired of hurting all the time...tired of thinking...tired of the damned voice that seemed determined to undermine him and his place in Atlantis at every turn.

'Colonel?'

He lifted his eyes to Carson, seeing sympathy written across his kind face. Something inside him began to bubble. He didn't need sympathy from someone like Carson. He wasn't even a real person, just a facsimile...a shadow of the real man who had once graced this great city.

'Not as much as I'd like, no,' he admitted, through clenched teeth.

'And the migraines...I take it they're still bothering you?'

'Only when I'm awake.'

'And since you're not sleeping too well...'

'Yeah, you're getting the picture.'

Sheppard smiled at him, one of his best crooked grins, but inside he could feel anger knotting his stomach. Why was Carson asking all these dumb questions? He was supposed to be a brilliant doctor. He should have fixed all this by now.

'Well, I know this is probably little comfort to you right now, but it's perfectly normal for you to be experiencing these kinds of side effects after the injuries you sustained to your sight and hearing. As I've said before, it'll all settle down given more time.'

Sure, that was an easy thing to say and it meant Carson didn't have to do any more work on him. He probably didn't think he was worth the effort. As far as everyone on Atlantis was concerned he was damaged goods; he couldn't see properly, couldn't hear properly – what use was he to his colleagues if the Wraith attacked now?

'You'd have thought a guy who can manipulate genes could figure out a way to cure a damn headache by now,' he heard his voice say. But why he'd said it, he didn't know. He hadn't meant to criticise...at least not out loud.

Carson looked hurt, but quickly masked it. 'Let me get you something for the headaches. If we get on top of those, the sleep might follow.'

'It might...if you had the first idea what you were doing.'

This time, Carson's jaw dropped a fraction. He typed something into his datapad. 'I think it might be an idea to keep you in a while for observation...maybe run more scans –'

'So you can spot headaches on those things now?' Sheppard scoffed, folding his arms and glaring over them at the seemingly exasperated doctor.

'No, but I might be able to spot the cause of it. It's a proven fact that some brain injuries can cause changes to personalities. I didn't spot anything when we brought you in, but it might be prudent to repeat the tests considering the symptoms you're experiencing.'

'Whatever,' Sheppard shrugged.

Apparently alarmed by his indifference, Carson asked, 'Aren't you even a little concerned about your behaviour, Colonel?'

Narrowing his eyes, Sheppard pinned him with a piercing look. 'No, I'm more concerned that you're not the best doctor for the job.'

Fumbling for words, Carson strung together the best reply he could manage. 'Well...well, I admit it might seem like we're making no progress to you, but we've had a lot of people working on your case, Colonel, and from a lot of different angles. We'll get to the bottom of things...eventually.'

'Or not. Have you ever considered that you're just not smart enough to solve this, Carson? Maybe you should just admit defeat and stick to fishing.'

Carson jolted back as if he'd punched him. Somewhere inside, John could hear a distant voice telling him to stop because he was hurting the man's feelings, but another part, something much louder and more forceful told him Carson was arrogant and deserved it. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he stop doing this?

'Right...well,' Carson started, scratching his hair as if not sure how to handle him any more. 'I'll ask Marie to set up that scan and we'll see what it shows us.'

'Yeah, I guess we will,' Sheppard fired back, instinctively knowing the doctor's attempts to help would culminate in yet another failure, but unsure why he was so certain of that. Patient as ever, Carson shuffled away, leaving Sheppard to wonder just what he was becoming – someone who enjoyed undermining others, who revelled in seeing the hurt in their eyes. Whoever this new John Sheppard was, he didn't like him one little bit.

...oooooo...

While stifling a yawn and stretching out his tired limbs, Rodney spotted Carson making his way over to him in the lab. His stomach lurched, for a moment thinking something serious had befallen the colonel, then realised they had a communication system for communicating those kinds of emergencies and was highly unlikely to leave a seriously ill patient to bring the news to him in person.

'Hey, Carson. We don't see you down here too often,' he greeted his friend. 'Come to see how the real scientists work?'

'Very funny, Rodney, but I have just about as many derogatory remarks as I can handle for one day, thank you very much!'

Puzzled, Rodney looked away from the work he had started reading again. 'Really, how so?'

'It's a long story. Look, Rodney, I need to see all the research you and the geologists have done on the rock deposits from P5G 598, both here and in-situ.'

Rodney slid his chair over to a spare laptop and fired up the appropriate files, signalling for Carson to take a seat. 'So, what's brought on this sudden interest?'

Carson sighed, turning his chair toward Rodney. 'Because I'm sure we've missed something about P5G 598 that's important to Colonel Sheppard's current condition.'

'Oh, and of course you would assume I've missed something!' Rodney huffed, feeling a stab of indignation at the suggestion.

'Not really, it's just that I've already checked through every test I've run at least twice and I can't find anything unusual. But what I do know is that cheeky little bugger sitting up in the infirmary is not the Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard we've come to know and love, and I mean to get to the bottom of why...even if he thinks I'm not smart enough to do it.'

'You mean he's been criticising you, too?' Rodney asked, surprised to hear that. He and Sheppard had always shared and interesting and slightly prickly friendship by mutual agreement...well, he'd assumed Sheppard agreed to their banter because he always played along. They'd never actually discussed it because...well, they didn't really talk that much...not about real life stuff.

'Aye. Seems he thinks his problems might just be beyond my medical understanding. Trouble is, I'm beginning to think he might be right. I've run more scans, and there's nothing physically wrong with him now. His symptoms should be improving, but if anything, they're getting worse.'

'Well, you're not going to find anything useful in those files,' Rodney grumbled, dipping his head toward the laptop. 'Zelenka and I have been through the data time and time again and we can't find anything to account for what happened down there.'

Carson stared back at him, momentarily silent. 'I know Mr Woolsey put a ban on anyone returning to P5G 598 until we came up with some kind of answers that meant we knew what we were dealing with, but do you think he might change his mind since the colonel's condition has taken a dip?'

'A dip?' Rodney felt his heart leap into his throat. 'What kind of dip?'

'He passed out earlier...although that may have simply been down to lack of food. But the mood swings and bed temper are definitely getting worse...'

'Well, I'm ready to go back if you are,' Rodney said eagerly, jumping up and already beginning to gather the things he thought he might need.

'All right, Rodney. You do whatever you need to prepare here and leave talking Mr Woolsey round to me. I have a feeling this might take a gentler touch than you're capable of.'

Rodney stopped mid-rummage, his face suddenly puce, but after a moment of holding in a deluge of insults, he simply nodded. 'Maybe, you're right, Carson. I'm not sure I could stay level-headed about this, right now.'

'I promise you, I'll have him eating out of the palm of my hand before the hour is up.'

He darted from the room, leaving Rodney beavering away behind him, collecting together all his vital equipment and feeling a mixture of excitement and fear at the thought of returning to the planet that had left Sheppard in such a mess the last time they travelled there.

...oooooo...

Lieutenant Andrews took the jumper through the 'gate smoothly, hunting out the rocky plain at the location Dr McKay had given him as soon as they passed through it. His landing was textbook perfect, but McKay couldn't help but feel it lacked something of the finesse Sheppard demonstrated with seemingly no effort at all. He sighed, checking the energy readings in the locality.

Nothing.

That didn't look promising. Rodney looked around at the others in the party – Ronon, Teyla, and Carson – swallowing deeply at the thought of leaving the safety of their craft. His subconscious was screaming that this was a dumb, dumb, _dumb_, idea, but what choice did they have? Only P5G 958 had any possible solutions to Sheppard's worsening condition.

'Okay. What now Dr McKay?' the lieutenant asked, looking over to where he was sitting in the co-pilot seat.

'Now we get out...I guess,' he said. What he meant was that now they acted as bait to try to lure whatever it was that had captured Sheppard out of hiding, but he didn't want to say that out loud. Everyone knew what he meant – no need to dwell on it.

'Let's go,' Ronon rumbled, drawing his weapon and taking point as they headed for the rear ramp.

Rodney let Andrews out first, then caught up with Carson who was hanging back for him.

'Ready?' the doctor asked him.

'Ready to go dangle myself like the proverbial worm on a hook. Oh yeah...what could go wrong?' he whined.

Carson gave him a sympathetic smile before pulling out his side arm and heading down the rear ramp beside him. 'Come on, Rodney. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get back and help the colonel.'

Emerging out into the dusty landscape gave Rodney the creeps. This time, unlike the first time they'd set foot there, he instantly felt as if they were being watched. He hunched his shoulders, altering the range of his hand-held scanner to see if he could pick anything up. Still nothing.

'So, what now?' Ronon asked, and then all eyes were on McKay, waiting for his answer.

'Well, I guess we could head through the rocks again. That seemed to get their attention last time.'

Ronon nodded and strode out in that direction, and Andrews gestured for the others to follow the Satedan so he could watch their six. At a lean six feet three, with Ronon a shade taller, the two of them looked like titans protecting their more diminutive charges, although Andrews' short, blond hair and spotless BDUs provided a stark contrast to the Satedan's more unconventional style.

McKay kept his eyes glued to his scanner, watching for a tell tale variation in the background energy levels that would show something was approaching. The sky above darkened, growing thick with clouds as they walked – clouds that eventually released great spots of rain, the type that heralded an approaching storm.

'Great, because this trip isn't bad enough as it is,' McKay mumbled, adjusting his scanner again.

'It's just rain, McKay,' Ronon pointed out.

Easy for someone like him to say. He didn't look like a drowning kitten when he got caught in a downpour.

On the very periphery of his scanning radius, McKay spotted energy building. 'Okay, I have something.'

'Where is it?' Teyla asked, arriving beside him and reading the scanner results along with him.

'Currently ten clicks north-west of here,' he said, watching the power levels mount. 'But you can bet it won't be that far away for long if they know we're here.'

Lieutenant Andrews came to an abrupt halt, his blue eyes searching the landscape, and called, 'Anyone else feel that?'

'The ground's shaking,' Ronon announced, raising his weapon and scouring the short distances he could see between the needles of rock surrounding them.

'What?' Then Rodney felt it, too – a gentle tremor in the earth beneath his feet. 'Oh, this just keeps getting better!'

'Are they coming any closer yet, Rodney?' Carson asked, joining both him and Teyla.

The scans still showed the power spike hovering at the same distance. Perhaps the hostiles were avoiding the area because of the earth tremors. 'Not yet. Maybe we should keep moving and then we'll get their attention.'

The group pressed on, winding their way through the rocks as the rain worsened, and the tremors shook the ground with increasing regularity. A piece of rock thudded to the ground only a few feet from Carson, making him start.

'I think it might be wise if we give the rocks a wide berth,' he suggested.

No one argued, though there really wasn't enough space to be sure they could be entirely safe. Once or twice, Ronon spotted a larger piece breaking free from a column and blasted it on the way down, showering them with smaller splinters, which, although they hurt as they struck their unprotected areas of skin, ultimately were much less harmful than the larger blocks.

Rodney watched his scanner, seeing no change in the proximity of the power readings. 'C'mon, for pity's sake! We're right here.'

'Did you hear that?' Carson suddenly asked from behind him.

Rodney stopped. 'What now?'

'I think I heard something...a voice.'

They all listened, but none of them heard anything.

'Should we move out?' Andrews asked, clearly keen to get the mission over with, and understandably so. They were making no progress and conditions were becoming treacherous; like Sheppard, he would see it as his responsibility to get everyone back to Atlantis in one piece.

'Everyone okay to keep going?' McKay asked, immediately receiving nods from Teyla and Ronon.

Carson, however, looked like he wasn't listening. 'Are you seriously telling me you can't hear that?' he asked again, eyes round with worry.

Once again, they stood still and listened, and this time Rodney heard something – something that sounded like a whisper. When Teyla opened her mouth to speak, he jabbed his index finger into the air as a signal for her to stay quiet. It came again, and this time he heard what it said.

_Worthless._

'I heard it!' he gasped. 'It _is_ a voice.'

'I think I heard it, too,' Lieutenant Andrews pitched in. 'It said something, but I couldn't quite make it out.

'Worthless,' Rodney and Carson said in unison, then gave each other a horrified look. If they had both heard the same word, then it had to be true.

'I can hear nothing,' Teyla told them, looking puzzled.

'Me neither,' Ronon grunted, but he did a 360 degree turn with his weapon set to stun to be sure there was no one around all the same.

_Usurpers, _the voice whispered, and this time, the three of them reacted as one, each levelling their weapons at nothing in particular, Rodney almost dropping his weapon in his hurry to fumble it out of the holster.

'Again?' Teyla asked, and they nodded, eyes searching out their hidden foe.

Above them, the clouds began to race unnaturally fast, coming in thicker and more bulbous with rain over the rocky terrain they were traversing and drenching them through to their skins.

'Rodney!' Carson called, and McKay knew the doctor thought they should go.

'Just give me a few more minutes,' he yelled over the winds now swirling around them. The power reading had started to move and grow, and he couldn't miss this opportunity to gather vital data.

_Weaklings, _the voice hissed inside his head, and he realised then that it really was inside his skull, and that was why he could still hear it clearly despite the worsening weather. So...what? Whatever was lurking on this planet was telepathic? He looked up to the racing clouds and shuddered as it occurred to him it could be much more than mere telepathy they practiced, but telekinesis, too. Perhaps they were controlling the clouds and the tremors, and if they were, presumably they could control rock growth and inflict physical injuries without any difficulty.

As if to reiterate that fact, a huge tremor shook them all so hard they stumbled, and one of the nearby spindles of rock split near its base and toppled against another.

_Leave now, _the voice hissed, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He felt sick, frightened, worthless...just as they'd said he was. Were they exercising control over his thinking now?

'Dr McKay, we really do need to leave, NOW!' Andrews ordered, and before McKay could express an opinion, the others were already heading back the way they'd come. Not wishing to be left behind, he followed them, hearing a disembodied voice rasp _Leave now,_ over and over, as if its owner suspected he needed the incentive. He didn't, and to be honest the added pressure wasn't helping.

They ran without stopping, Teyla only slowing long enough to catch hold of his arm and pull him along with her. His lungs burned with the effort, his legs turning to lumps of lead too heavy to lift clear of the ground. They stumbled along as the land beneath them shook and cracked and all around the rocky shafts began to crumble, fuelling their urgent need to get back to the safety of the jumper. It looked like the planet was in the grip of a natural disaster, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

They reached the craft with the sound of crunching stone ringing in their ears. Lieutenant Andrews set the jumper in motion, taking them up to a safe level and away from the collapsing rocks.

They travelled back to the 'gate in silence, Rodney trying to make sense of what had just happened. If Sheppard had come up against those same beings, which it seemed likely he had, there was no wonder he'd been in the state he was in by the time they reached him. After just a few minutes of contact, he felt drained of confidence and ready throw in the towel.

All of which made the fact they had left Sheppard behind to save their own asses seem like an even bigger mistake than it already had.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks again for all the comments and alerts/favourites. Keep them coming; it all helps to feed the muse! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 **

Woolsey was already descending the steps to the gate room when Lieutenant Andrews brought the jumper through the event horizon and came to an abrupt halt before him.

'Welcome back...even if it is a little sooner than expected,' he said to them over the comms system. 'We'll debrief in the conference room once you've disembarked.'

'Where's Sheppard?' Rodney asked him, and Woolsey bit back his natural and instant indignation at the man's sharp tone. He silently counted to three, checked his watch, and replied, 'Right now, I believe he is indisposed. Would you like me to call him?'

'No! I think it might be better if we discuss what we found before we involve him.'

Woolsey's throat tightened. Either they had found something that was too horrible to tell the colonel for fear it might cause him to relapse, or they had discovered something that made them suspicious of the colonel himself. Fiddling with his perpetually irritating collar, he agreed to the request, turning and beginning the short walk to the conference room while the jumper lifted up out of the gate room to dock in the jumper bay.

These were the moments Woolsey dreaded most, the short periods of silence when he was alone and his imagination began to run away with him. He was the commander of Atlantis now, people looked to him for leadership and clear thinking, when many times all he wanted to do was head for the hills. Sometimes he missed the safety of his desk job with the IOA.

The fact that Dr McKay didn't want the colonel present at the debriefing was highly unusual and didn't bode well, something he tried not dwell on while he waited for the team and Dr Beckett to join him. He did understand the request however; Colonel Sheppard was difficult at best at the moment – he'd had one or two 'prickly' conversations with him himself in the past couple of days. He was currently undergoing his second session with Dr Smithson. Hopefully that would help set him back on the right track.

But it was the fact the colonel claimed to have no memory of the events on the P5G 598 from the moment his team had left him until he awoke in the Atlantis infirmary that had him the most troubled. How could his military commander ever return to duty if he couldn't even face the events of those several days? Sheppard's first session with Dr Smithson had proved fruitless – he just hoped the colonel was able to be more forthcoming with information in his present session than he had been then, or Dr Smithson would likely never sign him fit for duty again.

He chose his seat at the head of the table, laying out his folder and datapad before him. He had gone over the mission reports and Colonel Sheppard's medical notes numerous times in the past few weeks, but he still liked to have the material to hand to refer to if necessary. Those things also gave him something else to focus on if meetings grew difficult, allowing him a few precious moments to regain his composure and adopt his normal inscrutable facade...at least he hoped it was inscrutable. That was the look he always attempted. Richard Woolsey – the enigma.

He nudged the items lying in front of him into position until they were exactly where he felt they should be, then placed his hands, fingers knitted together, on top of the folder and watched the door, waiting for his colleagues to arrive.

The team filed in looking unnervingly troubled, and somewhat like they had been picked up by a hurricane and spat out over Lake Michigan. It seemed his instinct might have been right.

'Thank you for joining me so quickly,' he said as they took up seats around the table and regarded their filthy and sodden exteriors. Feeling it impolite to comment on their condition he simply added. 'I take it your early return is pertinent?'

McKay nodded, pushing back hair that lay plastered to his forehead and firing up his laptop. 'We found something on P5G 598...at least we think we did...'

Woolsey glanced around at them all, their expressions pensive. It seemed McKay had deemed himself spokesperson and no one else dared interrupt just yet.

'We managed to monitor the power readings again, and this time...there was something else.'

Woolsey arched an eyebrow, waiting for more information. 'Go on.'

'We heard a voice,' McKay explained, his eyes darting to Carson then back to Woolsey. 'At least, some of us did.'

'A voice? What did it say?' Woolsey asked, intrigued.

'Leave now...among other things.'

A chill ran the length of Woolsey's spine, and his mind instantly cast back to various ghost stories he'd read as a child. Wasn't that what malevolent spirits in old, creepy houses always said? Pulling himself together, he cleared his throat. 'And you say not all of you heard this?'

'Neither Ronon nor I heard anything, but we could see a definite reaction in the others,' Teyla added in support of her colleague.

'So, the rest of you did?'

All three of the other people present, Drs McKay, Beckett and Lieutenant Andrews, answered in the affirmative, leaving Woolsey wondering if it was something to do with the fact they weren't originally from the Pegasus Galaxy. Had they encountered some kind of galactic xenophobe?

'You see the link?' McKay asked, looking intently at him.

'Yes...yes, I do,' Woolsey nodded, thinking he did.

'Carson, Lieutenant Andrews and I all have the ATA gene...and so does Sheppard'

Now he understood the importance. He was glad he hadn't vocalised his own theory and embarrassed himself in front of the intolerant scientist. 'So, you think whatever this voice belongs to has something against ATA gene bearers?'

'Yes, Sir,' Lieutenant Andrews now piped up. 'And it wasn't just a voice...it was a feeling, too. Like something was sapping our...our self-belief.'

Carson nodded. 'I felt that, too. Whatever it was seemed to want to undermine our confidence. It was quite depressing, actually.'

'I see,' Woolsey nodded, though he didn't really. It was too hard to imagine how a voice could have such an effect in a relatively short space of time. 'And this voice – was it coming from the rocks?'

'Hard to say,' Rodney confessed. 'Perhaps it was coming from rocks somewhere on the planet, but it definitely wasn't coming from the rocks close to us. It seemed to communicate telepathically, hence why Ronon and Teyla didn't hear anything. It was only tapping into the minds of those with the ATA gene. The power readings I picked up were several miles away, but I think they were connected to the events we experienced because they increased rapidly when the environmental events kicked in.'

'Environmental events?' Woolsey leaned into the table, even more intrigued.

'Yeah, rain storms moving in at high speeds, winds whipping up out of nowhere, earth tremors... Did I mention we think the beings are telekinetic, too?' McKay asked.

'No,' Woolsey replied. 'No, you didn't. But if they can manipulate the environment that does at least go some way to explaining how Colonel Sheppard became trapped and was physically injured while apparently alone.'

'Yes, it does.'

This time, Woolsey did feel as if he was keeping up. He nodded his understanding, looking around at them all. 'And because you think they're targeting ATA gene bearers, you believe what you witnessed may be linked to Colonel Sheppard's current problems.'

Rodney suddenly became more animated, in his response, arms and hands in full action as he explained his theory. 'I'm more certain than ever that we were deliberately lured to stay on the planet until whoever is down there set a trap for Sheppard. The patterns in the energy fluctuations that day, the way they moved – I think it was all designed to lure us out of the safety of the jumper and out into the open – then, _wham_!' He slammed his hand down on the tabletop making Woolsey start just a little. 'They caught him.'

'For what purpose?'

'Well that's the $64,000 question. So far, all he's done is develop an annoying habit of winding people up. But it could be a symptom of something worse.'

At that point, Woolsey's stomach plummeted like a stone. He'd felt this way when Sheppard had first returned from P5G 598, but had then foolishly allowed himself to think everything was going to be all right for him when he'd begun to recover. Now, it seemed, he was about to be proved wrong. 'Such as?' he ventured, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

'Well,' Carson interjected, leaping in to take over the explanation. 'We told you the voice didn't only speak, but appeared to influence our moods. Colonel Sheppard was trapped there for six days. If he had that to deal with for the whole time, it may have left rather more of an impression on him. We could be talking about a lengthy period of deprogramming to return him to his normal self.'

Now that was a serious suggestion, and certainly one he couldn't ignore. 'Are you suggesting Colonel Sheppard may have been compromised – that these beings brainwashed him somehow?'

'I think it's a possibility we should consider, yes. But since he's not done anything to actually harm anyone, we can only hope the effect is much as we experienced, perhaps exacerbated by the physical injuries he sustained, and will eventually pass...with the correct care.'

'Let's hope you're right. I take it he's still reporting to the infirmary for regular checks.'

'He is,' Carson nodded.

'Good. Then you'll be able to monitor his condition and alert me to any changes that might be worth my attention.'

'That I will,' the doctor assured him.

'Although none of this explains why these beings feel such enmity toward ATA gene bearers,' Woolsey pointed out, uncomfortable with the fact they still didn't have all the answers to why this had happened.

'No...no it doesn't,' Carson conceded. 'But what happened to the colonel could be something as simple as an experiment to see if they could influence people with that specific trait. Perhaps they were just curious, trying to find out how much it takes to overpower our minds...'

'That's a generous assumption,' McKay muttered with a disbelieving smirk.

'Curious to see if they could overpower the minds of those with the ATA gene in particular,' Woolsey added. 'That suggests they had a specific agenda, and this wasn't just some random trial.' He turned his attention to Ronon and Teyla, who had sat quietly by as they theorised. 'Have either of you heard anything about a species in the Pegasus Galaxy that does this to their prisoners?'

They exchanged a glance, Ronon simply shrugging his huge shoulders, so Teyla answered on their behalf. 'We have not, but then, if it only affects those with the ATA gene, we have met very few people who share that trait with yourselves. It is not at all commonplace in this galaxy.'

'So, other than locking the address for P5G 598 out of our 'gate... any other recommendations?' Woolsey asked, looking now to McKay and Beckett again for guidance.

For once, Rodney seemed happy to let Carson take over. 'Well, based on the fact that he really hasn't done anything worse than ruffle a few feathers, I think we just observe the colonel for now, keep a check on his physical well-being, and hope the sessions with Dr Smithson sort out any residual psychological effects of his captivity. Anything more forceful could have a detrimental effect on his health.'

'All right. I'm happy to go along with that for now, although, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with keeping what we've learned from him. Dr McKay, perhaps you could have a word with him to explain what it was you heard.'

McKay visibly paled, his jaw slackening. 'Wha...you want me to speak to him? I'm not sure...'

'Since you are one of the few people who has experienced this voice, and you're a member of his team – someone he trusts – you would seem to be ideally suited for the task, Dr McKay.'

Woolsey tried to ignore the uncomfortable fidgeting and throat clearing from the others gathered there. Sheppard needed to understand what might be affecting him, and, in his opinion, Dr McKay was the best person to tell him.

'Perhaps I should have that word with him,' Carson offered, darting a concerned look in Rodney's direction.

'Meaning you think I'm not capable of communicating this to him?' McKay demanded, the colour returning to his face now in a sudden rush.

'Now, simmer down, Rodney...I didn't say that –'

'I'll do it,' Rodney snapped. 'You people don't think I can do the whole "understanding friend" thing. Well, I'm going to prove to you I can.'

Everyone held their tongues, but Woolsey could see that all of them, even Lieutenant Andrews, who had only worked with him for a couple of weeks, had their doubts.

'Well, thank you for your time, people. If that's everything, I'll release you all go to your post mission check-ups. Let me know the moment anything...develops.'

They all muttered their agreement as they filed from the room, McKay and Beckett still bickering as they left.

Once they had all gone, Woolsey let out a sigh of relief. He'd expected the news to be far worse than that, then felt bad about being relieved that the horrors that Sheppard had gone through had been most likely the work of a curious, if somewhat cruel, species.

Then he wondered what sort of a life he was living now, when the news that telepathic aliens had tried to take over the mind of his military commander was better than what he had been expecting to hear. Sometimes, he really missed the days when those ghost stories were the scariest thing in his life.

...oooooo...

'Well, John, I have to confess I'm surprised to see you here...and on time,' Dr Smithson gloated as Sheppard slipped into the room and headed for the empty seat opposite her.

He faltered en route, glancing back toward the door. 'I didn't get the impression I had a choice,' he confessed, halting as if he was about to make a run for it.

'You haven't,' she told him, trying to keep the smile from her face. 'But I've read your personnel file – you're not the type to let that kind of thing stop you normally.'

'Maybe this is a cry for help, then,' he smirked, slipping into the chair and lounging back in a pretence of relaxation. But his face was taut, even if he was smiling, and the light didn't quite make it all the way to his eyes.

'Maybe,' she mused, slipping on her glasses and tapping a few keys on her laptop to bring up his file.

Their last meeting was still vividly imprinted on her memory. She'd seen every imaginable kind of person in her time as a psychologist; neurotics who thought they couldn't handle their lives and were really there for the attention; those overwhelmed by what life threw at them, and out here, where every time they stepped through the Stargate they ran the risk of falling victim to the Wraith, that was hardly surprising. And then there were also those who came to her simply to talk things through, things that were playing on their mind and they just needed a little help to unravel their meaning and the course they should take. But the John Sheppard types were always harder to crack – either heartless or so lost in denial they didn't know how bad they felt any more. So which one was he? Her opinion leaned toward the latter, but today she intended to find out for sure.

'Has your hearing improved since the last time I saw you?' she asked, starting with an easy question.

'A little. Still have some ringing in my ears, but it's no worse than listening to the persistent buzz of McKay when he's theorising.'

'Any other sounds?'

He gave her an odd look, then turned his response into a joke. 'What, the ringing isn't enough?'

She shrugged. 'I have to ask, you understand.'

He stared back at her, a hardness edging his eyes that she hadn't noticed during their last meeting. 'Of course you do.'

She hadn't noticed that, either. He'd been quiet, closed down, reluctant to be there, but there had been none of this...conceit. She had been carefully gathering information about Colonel Sheppard from those who worked with him, asking occasional questions without making it obvious she was building a profile on him, and not once had anyone stated this arrogance as an aspect of his personality. So, was he really that pissed off about having to see her?

'Have you had any success in remembering the details your incarceration on P5G 598 yet?' she asked, pressing on despite his tone.

Slouching lower in his seat, Sheppard just glared back at her, unwavering. 'No.'

So, it seemed this was going to be a difficult meeting. In her heart, she'd suspected it would be, but not in this way. She'd met a lot of people like John Sheppard...or at least a lot of people who resembled the Sheppard she'd been expecting to come to her office. Stoicism was common among military types; they often thought hard knocks were part of the job and that they should simply put up and shut up, and for many years that had indeed been the prevailing attitude in organisations like the air force. But it didn't have to be that way, and it was her job here on Atlantis to make the "stoic" military types understand that talking their issues through might actually make them stronger. The man sitting before her, however, was not the character she had geared up for. A quick rethink of her strategy was in order.

'Unusual. Normally, after a traumatic event, the victim will suffer some flashbacks or nightmares. Of course, you could be dealing with the event in a very different way, avoiding all reference because it's too painful or distressing for you to face yet.'

He didn't react to her veiled taunt. She'd expected him to take offence at her suggestion that he was too weak to deal with the problem, but he offered no emotional reaction at all. She noted it in his file while waiting for him to say something.

'Maybe you're right...maybe not.'

Her sensibilities agitated, Dr Smithson flicked her eyes up from her laptop screen. Sheppard wore a condescending smile, suggesting he actually pitied her. Why would he be looking at her that way?

'Don't you want help with this problem, John?' she asked.

Again, he showed no flicker of emotion, just held her gaze evenly, his mouth curling up at the corners a little more. 'Who says I have a problem?'

Dr Smithson sat back, slowly sliding a few pieces of paper to one side and lifting the one beneath them up. Then, slipping on her glasses, she read from it. 'Aggressive headaches, trouble sleeping, difficulty concentrating, depressive moods...should I continue?'

Their battle of words was interesting in its way, but wasn't giving her any clues as to what Sheppard had experienced on P5G 598. Without that specific information, or at least some clues, it remained almost impossible to target his therapy in the most effective way. Yet again, he gave no real reaction, only a shrug.

'I assume those symptoms aren't normal for you?'

'Who's to say what's normal?'

'Which is why I said "for you",' she pointed out. It seemed clear he intended to outsmart her...to belittle her in some way, again, a quality none of his colleagues had mentioned. A thought struck her, and she began to check through the details Dr Keller had shared with her about his admission to the infirmary those several weeks ago. 'Did you sustain a head injury during your incarceration, John?' she asked, hoping he would clarify the matter as she was having difficulty finding a reference to any such damage.

'No. Why?'

When she looked back up at him, his eyes had narrowed and looked even meaner...so different to their last meeting. Then, she had felt completely comfortable and in control. Now...well, now she felt like he was gauging her, waiting for her to make a mistake so he could pounce on her.

'Sometimes, when someone experiences a brain injury they undergo a...change in personality. But I see Dr Carson already ran another scan to be sure.'

Sheppard's face froze in an angry glare. She hadn't meant it as an insult, but he'd obviously taken it that way. 'Are you suggesting there's something wrong with me?' he said quietly, in a way that was by far more menacing than if he had yelled at her.

'I don't know,' she said, her voice wavering just a fraction. 'That's what I'd like to find out.'

'Has it ever occurred to you that it might be _you_ who has a problem?'

Dr Smithson blinked back at him, wondering why he was suddenly on the attack. What had she done to make him feel threatened?

'I'm sure I have many "problems",' she said, picking her words with more caution than she had expected she would need to with the supposedly affable colonel. 'But we're not here to discuss me. You're presenting with headaches, difficulty sleeping, poor concentration and, at the very least, mood swings. Those are the problems I would like to solve right now.'

'And what makes you think you can?'

There he went again, attacking her when all she wanted to do was help. 'What makes you so sure I can't?' she asked, turning the question around on him.

Sheppard pressed back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and stretched out his legs as he gazed up at the ceiling. 'Well...what if you've never come across anyone like me before? What if there's something going on inside here –' he freed his right hand long enough to tap his temple with his index finger before tucking it away again, '— that's beyond anything you've ever encountered?'

That made her smile. Egotism was a characteristic she'd encountered numerous times and something she felt more than qualified to deal with. 'Do you really think you're that special, John?'

His eyes pierced into her, his expression darkening. 'You have no idea.'

'Perhaps you could share some of what's in that head of yours, then I might understa –.'

'You'll never understand!' he snapped, leaning forward so suddenly that she actually flinched backward away from him. Again, her throat constricted, and she doubted she was managing to cover her nervousness as well as she wished she could.

'You seem to view the people in this city as competitors, John. We're not against you, you know.'

Immediately adjusting his posture to appear less threatening, Sheppard appeared to backpedal very rapidly. 'Of course I know that. Now you're just being ridiculous.'

'Ridiculous...not smart enough to help you...not exactly the words of someone trying to find solutions,' she pointed out, earning herself another angry glance before he averted his gaze completely.

'I told you...I don't need help,' he assured her again. 'I had a bad experience, and it's gonna take a little time to adjust, that's all.'

'How do you know?' she asked him, seizing the opportunity to get back in the driving seat.

He shrugged. 'Everyone says times a great healer.'

'No, I mean how do you know you had a bad experience if you don't remember what happened on P5G 598?'

From the change in his face, she knew he'd slipped up and he knew it, too. Whatever John Sheppard was trying to keep hidden from her was in there, and she'd just managed to catch a brief glimpse of the truth. He knew more than he was letting on, she was certain from his reaction, and that made her all the more determined to get to the bottom of what ailed the man sitting before her.

After his momentary hesitation, Sheppard replied, 'Well, you guys keep telling me how bad I was when I was brought in, so I have to assume something traumatic happened back there, right?'

His excuse was sound enough, but she didn't buy it. His eyes spoke of lies and hidden truths – almost a lifetime of working with people and their problems had taught her the signs to look for. Sitting back and regarding him, Dr Smithson decided to bring their session to an end. 'All right, John. It's clear you don't intend to face this session in the manner it's intended so I think that's enough for today. I'm going to recommend another scan and further medical tests before I schedule our next session, but you can be sure I'll be in touch soon.'

Sheppard's eyebrow twitched up as if he were about to challenge her again, but he didn't. Instead, he simple said, 'Do what you have to,' bouncing up from his chair and leaving the room without so much as a "by your leave".

Smithson stared at the now vacant chair, his adverse energy still present and leaving her with a feeling of oppression, and, if she wasn't mistaken, fear. It had been a very long time since she'd felt genuinely afraid of a patient. It happened sometimes, because mental illness came in all shapes and sizes, some of them perverse and disturbing. But Sheppard's deterioration from their first meeting to this had her worried that there was something physical going on inside his head that had been missed. Hopefully, with further testing, they would be able to nail whatever it was and the colonel would soon be on the mend.

...oooooo...

Footfalls hurrying along behind him, flat and heavy, heralded the arrival of Rodney just as Sheppard reached his room.

'Hey, you got a minute?' he asked, panting hard as he tried to regain his lost breath.

For some reason, the sight of Rodney's flushed face angered him, and Sheppard fought with the urge to tell him to get the hell away from him. Instead, he leaned against the wall beside his door, rolling his eyes. 'Can't this wait, Rodney? I'm kind of tired...'

'No...actually...but it won't take long, either,' Rodney promised, his pitch as close to begging as possible without him actually pleading.

Though he wanted to say no, Sheppard activated his door, and, with a flamboyant sweep of his arm, gestured for the scientist to head inside.

'We went back to P5G 598,' Rodney babbled, looking like he didn't know what to do with his hands, then finally choosing to plunge them into his pockets.

'Yeah, I know. And?'

'Something happened...something weird.'

That concerned Sheppard in a way that didn't fully make sense to him. Weird should have been intriguing, but he just felt like telling Rodney to stay away from the place and stop interfering. 'Define weird,' he demanded. 'And no, I don't mean the actual word.'

'Well, we were collecting more power readings when I heard...a voice.'

Heart now beating more rapidly, Sheppard straightened up, hands on hips. 'A voice? Who was it?' he demanded.

Rodney could barely hold his gaze, and Sheppard suspected he knew he was well aware what voice he was talking about.

'A voice. A disembodied voice that got inside my head and told me to leave. Didn't you hear it when you were there?'

_Tell him no. _

Trapped inside his own mind, Sheppard desperately wanted to say yes, he _had_ heard it, but no amount of will power could force his tongue to speak the words that would bring him the help he needed. Something...someone...had control of him, and in his heart he knew Atlantis was in danger, yet there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

'No, I didn't hear a thing...other than that noise that blew out my eardrums.'

Rodney blinked back at him, clearly not believing what he said. 'Really? That's weird because...I wasn't the only one to hear it. Carson heard it...and Lieutenant Andrews heard it, but not Teyla or Ronon. You see the connection, of course?'

_Yes, I see it! Do something Rodney!_ Sheppard's mind screamed, but his mouth said something else entirely. 'No...not really,' he heard himself drawl, sitting on the bed and pulling out his earpiece, tossing it onto his nightstand.

Rodney hovered, shifting from one foot to the other as if he didn't dare say what needed to be said. _Work it out, McKay_, Sheppard inwardly begged, but he knew the ferocity of his stare was actually challenging McKay to dare to do that. He no longer possessed the ability to control any part of his body, not even an eyebrow of his own to arch, but his mind could still surface to panic and dread and to curse whatever had taken him over with every expletive he'd ever learned. But he still had no idea who it was; they had taken him over and hadn't even had the decency to introduce themselves. Even so, he knew they were ancient and very, very powerful; he didn't know how he knew that, but he did, he felt it with every fibre of his being.

When his eyes drifted back to Rodney's ruddy face, he saw the bewilderment and frustration there. 'We all have the ATA gene, Sheppard. Are you really telling me you couldn't work that out for yourself?'

_Of course I could. That in itself has to tell you something's wrong! _'Rodney, I'm kind of tired,' whoever was using his voice told his friend.

'Oh, right...I guess that's why you didn't see what I was getting at.'

'Probably, yes,' he heard himself answer.

'Well, I should let you get some rest,' the scientist mumbled, thumbing toward the door and backing up. 'We can talk about this later.'

'Okay...thanks.'

'_Colonel Sheppard...Colonel Sheppard, please respond.'_

His eyes shifted toward the earpiece on the nightstand from where the muffled voice was emanating. It sounded like Keller.

'You gonna answer that?' Rodney asked.

'Um...yeah...I guess,' he said, watching his hand reach out and pick up the earbud to hold it where he could respond. 'This is Sheppard.'

'_Colonel, we'd like you to report to the infirmary for further tests as soon as possible.'_

Rodney was watching him, waiting for him to answer. In truth, he was waiting to see what he would say himself.

'Could this wait until morning, Dr Keller? I'm not feeling too well right now.'

'_Not feeling well. Is there anything I should be worried about?'_ the young doctor instantly responded.

'No...I'm just tired. It's nothing a good sleep won't fix.'

'_Well...okay...if you're sure,'_ Jennifer agreed. _'I guess we can run the can wait until then. But if you get any worse, I want you to let me know immediately and we'll bring you in.' Understood?'_

'Perfectly,' he assured her, dropping the communicator back down onto the tabletop.

'Right, well...I guess I should leave you to it,' McKay said, shuffling back to the door.

Sheppard tried to speak, tried to tell him there was something seriously wrong and everyone was in danger, but his mouth simply wouldn't move to form the words. And just when he thought he might be able to bark the words out through gritted teeth, pain stabbed straight through the centre of his brain, making him double over and clutch his head in a desperate attempt to find some relief.

'Okay...I think that qualifies as worse,' Rodney squeaked, grasping hold of his shoulders and trying to steer him toward the door.

Sheppard felt his body stiffen, making it too difficult for the scientist to budge him. 'Get your damn hands off me!' his mouth spat.

His voice was thick with malicious intent, and Rodney immediately released his grip on him, holding up his hands as if surrendering. 'Hey...I was only showing concern.'

'JUST GO!' Whoever had shouted that through his mouth clearly realised from Rodney's terrified expression that they had taken it too far, and followed it with a much weaker, 'I'm okay, Rodney. Just stop fussing and let me get some rest.'

Even his speech pattern and vocabulary sounded just like him. How was anyone supposed to realise it wasn't him speaking when he wasn't even sure himself? But, he supposed, since whatever had taken hold of him was right inside his head it might well have the capacity to study the way he spoke and behaved from memories and mimic them in a wholly convincing way. But to what purpose? What did whatever was inside him have in mind for him and the others in the city?

He watched, his own mind screaming at Rodney to notice something, maybe just a flicker of panic in his eyes...anything...but McKay just stumbled his way out of the door and let it slide shut behind him.

'No!' he finally managed to say, his voice little more than a whisper.

Somewhere, deep inside his brain, laughter rang out – mocking, chilling. That laughter made him more determined than ever to tell someone what was going on, but the moment he tried to rise, his brain shut down.

The last thing he saw was the floor rising up to meet him at an alarming speed...

* * *

**A/N: I'm hoping to start posting daily from now on, if all goes well with the final chapters and editing. So, enjoy the rest of the story and keep those reviews coming. :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 **

McKay hadn't even caught his breath from running to Sheppard's room before he'd started his trek to the infirmary. So, by the time he got there, the first thing he had to do was sit down in Jennifer's office before he could even begin to speak to her.

Pouring him a glass of water, Jennifer rubbed his back while he brought his panting under control, then perched on the edge of her desk and waited patiently for an explanation for his current state.

'Is Carson around?' he eventually gasped out, taking a huge gulp of his drink and peering out into the infirmary visible through her office door.

'He's doing rounds, but, you know what, I'm a qualified doctor, so maybe I can help?' she pointed out, looking a little annoyed that he hadn't wanted to speak to her.

He shook his head, wagging a finger in front of her. 'Sorry...no offence...but Carson was at the meeting with Woolsey and I need his opinion on something.'

Folding her arms sharply, Jennifer frowned down at him as he slowly regained his composure. 'Carson has updated me on everything said at your meeting, Rodney. We're a medical _team, _remember? I don't know how you do things down in your lab, but we all work together in here.'

Great, so now he'd upset Jennifer too, and he hadn't even tried. That was two people he'd annoyed in the space of ten minutes. That had to be a record...well, no...probably not...

'Okay, well, then...I guess you can help,' he admitted, rubbing the sweat from the back of his neck. 'I just went to see Sheppard because Woolsey had the genius idea that I should update him about our findings on P5G 598, and...it didn't go so well.'

She quirked an eyebrow. 'What did you do, Rodney?'

Because it was Jennifer, he bit back the complaint he wanted to voice. 'I didn't _do_ anything. In fact, I was the personification of friendly support.'

'Really?' she asked, looking dubious.

'Yes, really. But...over-reaction much! I thought he was gonna take my head off.'

Just then, Carson bumbled in from the main ward, looking worried, although that had been an almost permanent expression for the Scotsman since his first incarnation had arrived in the Pegasus Galaxy. 'Rodney...I thought I saw you heading this way. How did it go with Colonel Sheppard?'

'Not good,' Jennifer replied before he could answer.

Carson's eyebrows lifted a shade. 'Oh, really. What did you do?'

'But of course you'd blame me even though we all know Sheppard is the one suffering from the personality disorder right now,' McKay snapped, now feeling righteously disgruntled by their lack of faith in him.

'Rodney was the personification of friendly support,' Jennifer told Carson, with an undeniable smirk plastered across her face.

'Hey! Whose side are you on?' he demanded, hurt that she doubted him.

'Right now, we're all too concerned with helping Colonel Sheppard to take sides, Rodney,' Carson assured him. 'Why don't you tell us what happened?'

Pushing his indignation aside, Rodney grunted out his response. 'I told Sheppard what we found, just like Woolsey asked me to. He pretended not to know anything about voices, and he made it pretty clear he didn't want me talking about them.'

'What do you mean, "he pretended",' Carson pressed.

'Oh, c'mon, Carson. When you've worked with someone as long as I've worked with Sheppard, you get to know when things are screwy with them.'

'Aye, I suppose...'

'Well, when I contacted him earlier he did say he was tired,' Jennifer offered by way of an explanation.

'I know...I was there.'

'Oh...right. And did he seem tired to you?' she asked.

Rodney shrugged. 'Not particularly...more agitated than anything. How come you wanted him to come for more tests?'

Jennifer and Carson shared a look, as if wondering whether to divulge the information they had. 'Hey, weren't you the one emphasising the word "team" a few minutes ago?' Rodney reminded Jennifer. 'Well, if we're gonna figure out what's wrong with Sheppard, I'm pretty sure we all need to work together as a team on this.'

Jennifer looked a little guilty about her earlier comment, and when Carson nodded, she gave Rodney what information she could. 'Well, without going into confidential details, Dr Smithson had a "difficult" session with the colonel earlier, and she recommended we re-run our scans...again. Although, I have to say if Dr Smithson was my psychologist, I might feel like giving her a hard time, too.'

'Well, she's certainly no Kate Heightmeyer,' Rodney agreed, 'but right now, I think Sheppard might even have picked a fight with her.'

'Aye, that he might,' Carson nodded gravely. 'I don't think we can blame Dr Smithson for any of this.'

'I'm just saying she's not exactly the warm and welcoming type,' Jennifer explained. 'The way she talks, it's as if she views her patients as statistics rather than real people. And she never tires of telling me that she's helped every single 'client' she's ever had.'

'Okay, I admit she's not a shrinking violet,' Carson conceded, trying not to laugh, 'but that doesn't make her a bad psychologist.'

'No...I guess not,' Jennifer conceded, looking suitably contrite. 'I suppose I just took offence at the way she spoke to me. She made me feel like I was back at school again, ordering me to repeat all our tests.'

'So, did you ask the colonel to come in for those tests?' Carson asked her.

She nodded. 'I did, but he said he was tired and asked if they could wait until morning. I figured they could.'

'All right. But I'd like to sit in on them, if I may. Maybe between the two of us we might figure something out.'

'Well, I hope you do, because if those headaches get much worse they're going to completely debilitate him. He was doubled over when I left him,' Rodney snorted.

'What?' Jennifer gasped, immediately on her feet. 'And you didn't think it was worth telling us until now?'

'Well...I was getting to it,' he whined, giving her his best hangdog look. 'He yelled at me, then told me he was fine and I should stop fussing. Besides, you said he could expect to get headaches. I didn't think it was as important as the fact he'd denied hearing the voices, to be honest.'

'Maybe we should be the judges of that,' Carson grunted, trying to contact Sheppard. Though he hailed him several times, he received no response to his calls. 'I think this and his aggressive behaviour constitutes a significant development. Rodney, Jennifer, you inform Richard of the situation, and I'll go check on the colonel's condition. I think it's time to bring Colonel Sheppard back into the infirmary, whether he's tired or not.'

...oooooo...

Sheppard had no idea where his body was taking him when he woke and found himself walking through Atlantis' corridors. He couldn't even lift his arm to check the time, so had no idea how much time had ebbed away since he'd passed out on his floor after Rodney's visit.

A steady throbbing nagged at his forehead, and, if he wasn't mistaken from the odd glimpses he caught of them, there was blood on his hands. He seriously hoped that blood was his. He suspected he'd hit his head as he fell and that was the source; it would certainly explain the pains in his forehead, and he had been standing pretty close to his nightstand when he'd fallen.

Much as whatever was living within him seemed able to read his thoughts, he did not share the same advantage, a fact made all the more irritating because they had chosen his body to hitch a ride in. All he had was an overriding sense that Atlantis and everyone in it was in danger, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help.

Eventually, it became clear he was heading to the control chair, which didn't bode well. He tried to think about coming to a standstill, but all he managed was a slight falter, as whoever was in control drove him onward.

'_Colonel Sheppard, this is Dr Beckett. Could you report to the infirmary as soon as possible?'_

That very successfully stopped his errant body in its tracks. Whoever was in control didn't make him speak, though, giving no response to Carson's request. Sheppard tried to reply himself, but his lips felt as if the had been welded together in a grim line of determination.

'_Colonel Sheppard, this is Dr Beckett. We need you to come to the infirmary immediately. Where are you?'_

He took it from that question that they had already checked his room...Rodney – he must have told them something was wrong and they had at last made the decision to call him in.

Again, he didn't reply, and then he felt his legs begin to move again, though he could barely feel the floor beneath his feet as if this were all some kind of freaky nightmare. And he was still heading for the control chair.

The door to the room opened at the motion of his waved hand, just as it would on any other occasion. And why wouldn't it? To all intents and purposes, he was still Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard...in body at least, even if his mind had been banished to a far corner of his aching brain.

He tried again to stop himself moving forward into the chair, mentally screaming at his legs to stay still, commanding them to obey him, but they only slowed momentarily and then forged on, propelling him to the seat where they turned him round and them collapsed him into it.

_Do not fight us, John. The punishment will be much worse than you can imagine, _a voice whispered to him.

Like that was going to stop him trying. It might be inside his head, but whoever or whatever this intruder was clearly didn't understand how he ticked.

Still with no idea why the entity within him wanted him to power up the chair, he fought as hard as he could not to press his hands to the soft control pads on each arm, sweat pouring down his temples and dripping from his jaw as he used every ounce of strength he had to resist. But it wasn't enough. A word popped into his head because the entity needed him to form the thought that would carry out their plans. _Fly._

The engines fired and then everyone in the whole city knew exactly where he was. It was only minutes before the first marines arrived on the scene and levelled their weapons at him, asking him to stand down, with all the respect he would have expected them to use with an off duty senior officer. Of course, he didn't do what they asked, but he was impressed by them all the same.

_Shoot me!_ he thought, knowing that was the only way they would stop him unless whatever was lurking in his brain decided to back down... which it didn't.

The marines repeated the order, but he could sense their hesitation and wondered if someone had communicated that he should be contained rather than harmed.

Then, Ronon and Teyla appeared, Ronon with his gun aimed and ready. Sheppard wanted to feel relief at seeing his friends, knowing Ronon would willingly fire on him if the situation called for it and put this craziness to an end, but the chemical reactions necessary to experience that rush were outside of his control. Still, he knew Ronon would see it through; he'd shot him enough times before.

'Sheppard, get out of the chair,' his friend rumbled, his gun pointing right at him.

_Just fire the damn thing!_

'No need to panic. I'm only running a test – since I'm not fit for duty I thought I'd make myself useful somewhere else,' whoever was using his voice told them.

Now that was the lamest excuse he'd ever heard, so he was sure they wouldn't fall for it.

'You know you cannot do this without clearing it with Mr Woolsey first, John,' Teyla said softly, edging toward him, hand outstretched. She was trying to smile, but her facial muscles strained with the effort. 'Why don't you come with us and we will ask him together?'

_Stop being so damn sympathetic and tell Ronon to shoot me!_ Sheppard mentally begged, hoping Teyla, the most intuitive member of his team by far, would see something in his eyes that told her how seriously screwed he was.

'No need...I'm here,' Woolsey announced, arriving on the scene with McKay, Dr Keller and Zelenka. 'And I don't give my permission for this.'

_Way to go, Richard! _Sheppard thought._ That's really letting me have it with both barrels._

'You need to step out of the chair, Colonel Sheppard...now,' Woolsey stated, fixing him with a determined look.

_You will only stop when we are ready for you to do so_, the voice instructed the colonel.

'Sheppard, if you keep accelerating the engines at this rate without moving the city, you're going to overload the ZedPM. You have to know that?' Rodney insisted, his brow puckered with a mixture of anger and worry.

'He is right, Colonel,' Zelenka agreed, 'You have to stop this.'

_I'd love to, _Sheppard thought, concentrating on shutting them down, but his mind couldn't form the necessary instruction. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets, dripping onto his shirt. He was getting warm...no, he was getting hot. Then he noticed something...a smell...Smoke! Was that the engines burning up?

An ache began to build in his skull as Sheppard tried once again to remove his hands from the controls and to think the engines quiet again. His arms felt as if they were smouldering as they strained against the forces holding them there, as if struggling to lift a huge weight.

Then he caught sight of the first flicker of orange flame, burning a hole through his right sleeve, just above where he had rolled them up to his elbows. Crap! He was on fire! The intruder was burning him from the inside out.

Yet...no one else appeared to notice.

Sheppard spotted more tiny flames bursting out all over his arms, both through his sleeves and through the flesh not covered by them. After the initial shock had passed, the pain registered, but he couldn't scream, couldn't even make a single movement to help put out the fires. The smell of burning flesh and hair made him want to hurl, his skin charring, and still no one around him batted an eyelid. He could feel the flames climbing to his shoulders, licking around his neck, but the intruder kept its control over him, not even allowing him to flinch away from the heat.

Was this real? Maybe not. He stopped fighting the control of his body and almost instantly the pain ceased and the hallucination obviously caused by his mental companion disappeared, leaving him whole again. Okay, so the voice was right about the punishment being bad, but it wasn't real. If they thought that would stop him fighting them, they were sadly mistaken.

'Colonel, you're clearly unwell, please step away from the chair and come with us to the infirmary. I understand there are several scans the team there is waiting to administer,' Mr Woolsey said calmly, showing none of the nervousness that had to be churning in his guts.

Sheppard couldn't help but wonder why Woolsey thought an order from him would do the trick where several people waiting to make a sieve out of him hadn't. Then, rather oddly, he watched his hands lift from the controls and the seat deactivated, the city's engines falling silent. There was no way this sudden compliance was just down to Woolsey's request – he apparently wasn't meant to fly the city today. So what had all this been? A test run?

'Thank you, Colonel. Now, if you would come with us...' Woolsey gestured toward the door, and Sheppard felt himself push up and take a few steps toward it. What the hell? Was whatever had him under its power just going to play nice now?

'I don't need any tests. I just got carried away with trying to help out, that's all,' his voice told them. _Lame,_ he thought again. But at least now he understood when it was complying. It was afraid of the tests, fearful of discovery.

'Mr Dex, could you ensure Colonel Sheppard makes it safely to the infirmary?' Woolsey ordered, his expression both grim and determined.

'Let's go, Sheppard.' Ronon stepped forward and loomed over the colonel, as he felt the anger beginning to well inside his mind. The intruder saw the people of Atlantis as beneath it, unworthy of its time – he could feel that much even if he couldn't hear its innermost thoughts. It wanted to punish them. It wanted them dead.

'I don't need to go to the infirmary,' he said, and this time his voice sounded more aggressive. Was he really going to do this...with Ronon?

His friend slapped a thick hand onto the back of his neck in a half-friendly, half-insistent motion, but Sheppard knocked it away and swung a right hook that felt like it came from somewhere near his boots. It rocked Ronon, but didn't stop him, and he instantly tackled Sheppard, pinning his arms to his sides as his legs swung and kicked against his will.

'Lemme go!'

'Not until you've had those tests,' Ronon told him.

_That's it, Chewie. Keep hold of me_, Sheppard thought, sensing the frustration building inside him that wasn't his own. This "thing's" plans had been thwarted by those it considered inferior. That had to sting.

His boot connected with Ronon's shin, making him grunt, but he didn't let go. 'Come on. Let's get you down there.'

Still struggling, Sheppard vaguely felt his feet lift off the floor completely as his friend hauled him from the room, shocked faces gaping back from all around him.

_This isn't me. You have to see that!_ He wanted to focus on one of them McKay or Teyla – those closest to him who knew him better than anyone else, but he couldn't even choose which way to look. He desperately wanted to tell them of the danger still lurking inside him, his head pounding as he tried to form the words to warn them.

'Not...me!' he spat out. There, he'd spoken. He still had some control after all. Not that it did him any good because Ronon just mistook his words for another challenge and tightened his grip on him, crushing the air from his lungs.

'Sorry, buddy, but yeah, you.'

When he tried to speak again to clarify his meaning, his head exploded with the most tumultuous pain he'd ever experienced. Apparently, someone was pissed at his pitiful attempt to rebel. He threw back his head, thudding it against Ronon's face although his friend still maintained his hold on him. The pain mounted, and he roared against it, a primal, animal sound he would never have believed himself capable of.

And then...everything slipped away.

* * *

**A/N: Eeeeep! What are the aliens up to with Sheppard? Thanks to those of you still following and leaving your reviews for the story. Your time and comments are very much appreciated. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 **

The isolation room was utterly silent other than the sounds of the medical eqipment now set up there, the gentle, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor grating on Ronon's frayed nerves. He stood beside Sheppard's bed, staring down at his pale, still form, illuminated now by subdued lighting in comparison to the brightness of the infirmary, watching his friend's chest rise and fall with the steady pumping of the ventilator. Only a little over an hour ago, Sheppard had been fighting to free himself from his grasp. Now, he was fighting for his life.

Ronon was angry. He didn't know exactly who or what he was angry with, but he fumed as he looked at his fallen comrade, his body incapable of sustaining itself without the aid of that machine. On the opposite side of the bed, Teyla and Rodney sat in a hushed vigil, their faces drawn with worry. They were almost as motionless as Sheppard, the atmosphere in the room reminding Ronon of a held breath – stifling, painful. But what were they waiting for? For Sheppard to wake up? For him to die? Or maybe for him to do something crazy and freak everyone out again. Right now, he would settle for that rather than this...this half-existence...this waiting.

He tore his eyes away from the scene when he heard the door open. Jennifer slipped past the security detail Woolsey he ordered to keep watch at the isolation room door, giving Ronon and the rest of Sheppard's team a sympathetic smile as she crossed to the bed and checked the colonel's vitals, logging them on her data tablet. Ronon wondered why they relied so much on all these machines for monitoring people. It was clear to him Sheppard was exactly as he had been when she'd checked them on his admission; he didn't need any fancy gadgets to tell him that.

'How is he?' Teyla asked, her voice so quiet the question was barely audible.

'He's stable,' Keller assured her. 'His condition is still critical, but he's not getting any worse.'

'Well, we'll take that as a positive since worse than this would be dead,' Rodney snapped, his expression immediately reflecting the regret he felt at being so sharp with her.

Jennifer was thankfully forgiving; Ronon couldn't have tolerated any bickering at this point. She gave Rodney a patient smile, squeezing his shoulder. 'He's fighting, Rodney. And right now that's exactly what we need him to do.'

'I just don't get it,' the scientist whimpered. 'One minute, he's trying to fly the city, and the next...the next he's like this!'

'I know this coma is scary, but ninety percent of people who slip into comas emerge from them within four weeks and make a full recovery.'

'So what about the other ten?'

'Rodney...please,' Teyla sighed, rubbing her face and clearly feeling too weary to form any more of a sentence.

Ronon hated seeing their pain. Neither of them knew what to do...and there really was nothing they could do. It had been the same on that godforsaken planet. Again, just as there, all they could do was watch and wait while other people tried to bring Sheppard back to them. 'This is my fault,' he said, his heart heavy. He'd been too hard on Sheppard...too physical when restraining him. Somehow he'd brought him to this.

Jennifer's response was instant. 'No, Ronon. That isn't true.'

'I must have held him too tight or something...maybe he couldn't breathe.'

Jennifer walked around to his side of the bed and looked him straight in the eye. 'Listen to me. This is not your fault. From what I saw, Colonel Sheppard was able to breathe just fine when you restrained him – he certainly did enough protesting to suggest he could.'

'So how'd he end up like that?' the Satedan asked, peering up at her from beneath lowered brows.

'Well, to tell you the truth, we're not certain. If I had to guess, I'd say the bump to his forehead might have had something to do with it, but we scanned him and there's no sign of any kind of bleeding or pressure in his brain. As far as we know, this isn't an adverse reaction to any of the medications or procedures used on him recently, and the bloods we ran ruled out any kind of poisoning or organ dysfunction...so far, the cause is a mystery.'

'Healthy men don't just suddenly slip into comas. There has to be something wrong,' Rodney pressed, looking increasingly desperate.

'I know, and you're right. It's just that right now we can't find it,' Jennifer responded. 'But we will keep trying.'

'How bad is he, Dr Keller?' Teyla asked, and Ronon braced himself for bad news. How could it be anything but? The man was completely inanimate, unable to even breathe without assistance.

'Well, I'm not going to pretend this isn't serious,' Jennifer told her, tucking a strand of hair that had broken loose from her ponytail behind her ear. 'He scored very low on the GCS, hence the need to intubate to assist his breathing.'

'What's the "GCS"?' Ronon asked. He didn't have the patience to try to work it out. He needed plain talk to settle his mind, not her usual medical jargon.

'I'm sorry, I should have explained. It's the Glasgow Coma Scale, a measure of how deeply comatose a patient is. He has no eye response, no verbal response, and no motor responses at all. He scored three on the scale, and anything below an eight signals him as a severe case.'

Ronon heard Teyla suck in a sharp breath, struggling to hold her emotions in check. Sheppard's life was in the balance and there wasn't a thing they could do to help him.

'However, as I said,' Jennifer continued, trying to sound cheerful, but somehow falling short, 'there was no sign of any damage to his brain tissue on the scans we ran, so that leaves us hopeful that Colonel Sheppard will be one of the ninety percent who wakes once his body has had time to heal from whatever caused this. All you guys have to do is be here for him. This kind of support is exactly what he needs right now.'

'So, what? His body has just shut down for no reason?' Rodney asked again, rubbing the deep lines scored into his forehead.

'Well, his body has, yes. But his brain is still quite active...very active, in fact, from what we've seen on his scans.'

'So, what? Those voices we heard on P5G 598 have somehow brainwashed him into switching off?' McKay asked, just as the doors opened and Mr Woolsey entered.

'Well, I can't say for sure, but it seems that might be the case,' Jennifer conceded.

'That's crazy, what can they hope to gain from that?'

'Puzzling as that is...I have to confess I'm more worried by the fact he was trying to fly the city,' Woolsey interrupted now, forcing his way into the conversation. 'It seems those beings you encountered on P5G 598 might be more malicious than we originally assessed, Dr McKay. If they want him to fly Atlantis to them, we have to view them as a potential threat.'

'And if they were able to influence the colonel's mind and learn about Atlantis, they may also know our gate address,' Teyla sighed.

'Yes, but thankfully they should only know Sheppard's IDC, so we've blocked it. I've also cancelled all gate travel for the time being, and all teams currently off-world are being recalled,' Woolsey told her. 'Until we get to the bottom of whatever these beings want, and exactly what they have somehow persuaded the colonel to do, I don't intend to put anyone else at risk. We stay here, we secure the city, and we work out what to do for the best.'

Ronon nodded, feeling Woolsey's approach was probably the best way to deal with things, even if it wasn't his preferred style. Normally, he would be suggesting they head back to the planet and kick some ass, but not once had they even seen the beings there to know what they were up against. His instincts told him this was serious...perhaps the most serious threat they had ever faced. He might not have been able to hear the voices some of them had claimed had plagued them on that planet, but he'd felt the malevolence in the air as those rocks had begun to crumble and the skies had opened. Any species wielding that kind of command over the elements had to be given due respect.

'And how exactly are we going to find out what they have planned?' Rodney snapped. 'I thought we'd decided it was too dangerous to send anyone back there. And something tells me they're not they type to volunteer information.'

Woolsey looked down at the motionless colonel, thinking that over. 'I believe Colonel Sheppard holds the answers. Dr Keller assures me there's no damage to his brain, so there's no reason he shouldn't eventually wake up again. When he does, I intend to get to the bottom of this.'

'Good luck with that!' McKay snorted. 'He claims not to remember anything about his time on that planet.'

'That's as maybe...and it might even be the truth. But I've also spoken to Dr Smithson, and she's agreed to try to access the memories she believes may currently be suppressed within his memory.'

'You mean hypnosis?' Jennifer asked, clutching her data tablet to her chest. 'I don't imagine Colonel Sheppard will agree to that.'

Woolsey looked grim-faced as he gazed down at the unconscious form they had all gathered around. 'I don't require his agreement, Dr Keller. He has already proved he could be a significant threat to this city. He will take part in the process whether he wishes to or not.'

'You're kidding? You're going to force him to be regressed,' Rodney squeaked, rising from his seat. 'Hasn't he been through enough already?'

'I'm sure he has, Dr McKay. But if this is what we can expect to keep happening to him, I think forcing him to undergo the procedure could be the best solution to his problems. If Dr Smithson can work out exactly what these beings have subconsciously programmed him to do, she might be able to undo it and free him from their hold.'

'He is never going to go for it,' Rodney reiterated. 'So what're you gonna do? Tie him down?'

'If necessary, yes,' Woolsey replied, matter-of-fact.

Rodney sputtered, about to protest again, but Ronon had heard enough.

'McKay,' he rumbled, finally feeling the need to intercede. 'Woolsey's right. We have to do something to help him...whether he likes it or not.'

McKay glared, as if unable to fathom why anyone would agree to the plan. 'You think so? Maybe you could sit on him to hold him down while they do it,' he sneered.

'Rodney, Ronon is right,' Teyla told him. 'John's thinking may have been compromised by whatever beings we encountered on P5G 598. He might disagree, whether it is the right thing to do or not.'

'In fact, I would go so far as to say that if he disagrees after what he just did, he has definitely been compromised,' Woolsey added. 'Colonel Sheppard is not in the habit of putting this city and the people within it in danger. Quite the opposite, in fact. So, I'm sure he would want to do everything possible to ensure their safety.'

'I agree,' Teyla said with a respectful dip of her head.

'Well...when you put it like that,' Rodney conceded, plopping heavily down into his seat again, admitting defeat.

'I'm glad you can see the merit in our idea,' Woolsey said, flashing them all a brief, tight smile. 'I wanted to inform you now, so you were aware of the situation when he wakes.'

'If he wakes,' Ronon heard McKay mutter.

'Thank you, Mr Woolsey,' Teyla said sadly, reaching out to lay a hand gently on John's forearm. 'But I fear that is all some way off yet.'

'So it seems,' he agreed, sighing heavily. 'So it seems.'

...oooooo...

When Sheppard opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a barren landscape, the red ball of a sun casting its bloody hue across the land and bathing everything in its unnatural glow. Nearby, he saw long shadows cast by towering columns of rock, stretching out toward him, crawling across the floor as if trying to reach him. His chest seized as he realised where he was. He was back on P5G 598. How was this possible? Why hadn't someone stopped him leaving Atlantis?

Confused, he turned full circle, looking around him for anything or anyone he recognised. But he was alone.

'What the hell...?' he breathed, then suddenly realised he was talking for himself, something he hadn't been able to do for the last day at least.

Feeling vulnerable, he reached for his sidearm, but the holster strapped to his thigh was empty. That figured. Why would his luck change now?

_Weapons will be of no use to you here_, a disembodied voice told him with more than a hint of a sneer in its tone.

He spun round, but still couldn't see anyone else. 'Guess that's just as well since I don't have one,' he replied, eyes darting about the flat ground, but seeing nothing other than the rusty coloured dust swirling around his ankles.

_Foolish corporeal,_ the voice taunted. 'You see violence as the resolution to all problems.'

'Not all, just some,' he corrected, receiving a derisive huff in response. 'So, you gonna show your face or just leave me talking to the air here?' he asked, trying to engage his invisible critic.

_What makes you think we have a face?_

'We?' he wondered if that was some kind of "royal" we, or whether his companion just had a split personality.

_Yes, we. We chose to use one voice,_ a pause followed, and Sheppard had to admire the dramatic effect it caused. _But we could use many._

The final statement rang out in numerous voices, so many he suddenly felt surrounded and even more vulnerable. That holster felt emptier than ever.

Chewing his bottom lip as he gave that some thought, he asked, 'So what do I call you? You have to have a name, right?'

_Names are not important._

'Oh, c'mon! Humour me!' he pushed.

A pause followed his demand, and he wondered if he was about to be punished for his tone. The answer when it came was both calm and simple. _We are Initium._

That sounded familiar, making him wonder if they'd had this conversation before.

'Initium.' He knew what that word sounded like, and he figured he knew the likely meaning, but sought clarification anyway. 'What does that mean?'

Just then, a single, painfully bright light appeared in front of him. It grew steadily, taking on form and mass until eventually it had the appearance of a woman, older than him and in a long rob, her flowing white tresses blowing in the breeze. 'The beginning,' she breathed, but he heard it simultaneously inside his brain as well as the sound that fed through his ears. It was a strange and disconcerting sensation.

The form of the "woman" standing in front of him made him think he finally understood who or what they were. 'You're the Ancients...you ascended and left your physical...'

'Silence!' she ordered, and he sensed the absolute fury his assumption had caused her. So, not the Ancients. Then who?

'You are too young and foolish to understand us...as were they,' she sneered, her body fading in and out of focus. 'Even now, I have to take on your form so that you can communicate with me without fear.'

Well, he wouldn't exactly have said he was fear-free, but he didn't mind her thinking that. He recalled now that the last thing he remembered was losing consciousness in Ronon's grip. So, was this all some kind of dream.

'Not a dream, no. But you_ are_ still unconscious,' she told him.

'Why are you inside me?' he demanded, figuring, if nothing else, he deserved an answer to that question after the trouble they'd caused him.

'Because you will lead us to the Lanteans we have been searching for these past millennia.'

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. 'Sorry to break this to you, but those Lanteans are long gone. Whatever beef you have with them isn't going to get settled by doing this.'

The woman smiled, but there was no warmth behind it, her eyes remaining hard and cold. 'But you are a link to them, and so are all the others here on Atlantis who carry their genes. You will travel to your home world where their descendents reside. There, all traces of what remains of the Lanteans will be destroyed.'

'Not gonna happen,' he told them, folding his arms as if to underline his defiance.

'You speak as though you have a choice,' she replied, approaching now.

As she came nearer, he felt his body, at least this imagined version, begin to tremble, to weaken perceptibly, his knees shaking until they finally buckled and thudded against the dusty ground. The wind picked up, swirling the dust and blowing in dark crimson clouds, blocking out the sun. Pain wracked him, but he kept his eyes on her. He wouldn't show fear. Fear would give her an incentive to continue.

'But you forget. I'm inside your mind, and I know how afraid you are,' she said, responding to his unspoken thought. 'You want to protect your home world, but you know I can make you do what is necessary to take this city there.'

'How...many of you...are there?' he grunted, straining against the muscles spasms rippling through him.

'We are infinite,' she stated. 'We have no beginning and no end...we have always been.'

'Everything has a beginning...and an end. I just hope I'm there... to see yours,' he ground out through clenched jaws, shuddering as more spasms passed through him.

The image laughed, apparently amused at the mere suggestion that such a thing could happen. 'You are so foolish,' she replied, finding genuine amusement in his comments. 'You have no understanding of us. How can you ever hope to find an end to what is so far beyond you? We are all things – the cell that trapped you, the light that blinded you, the sound that stole your hearing, the fire that burned you...all of that was us.'

He shuddered, curling against the pain that felt like electrical currents contracting his muscles. 'You're not omnipotent...my friends will figure out what's going on eventually and they'll find a way to stop you.'

'Your friends have no hope of stopping us. We will succeed – it is only a matter of time.'

'Ten thousand...years,' Sheppard grunted. 'You've been hunting for the Lanteans for ten thousand years. That's a hell of a long time to bear a grudge.'

'They fled from us before we could finish our work. We searched for them beyond the boundaries of the Pegasus Galaxy, but we never found them. That is why we finally came home, only to find the Lanteans had returned.'

'What did they do that was so bad you would hunt them down for all that time?' he asked, half-expecting them not to answer.

'They turned their backs on us,' she said enigmatically, and again he was back to not understanding.

'What...so they created you and abandoned you?' he asked, knowing the Ancients had a habit of doing that kind of thing.

The sky above them darkened along with the woman's worsening mood. The wind whipped up, buffeting him, and his pain increased.

'I'm gonna...take that as...a no,' he panted, his fists clenching so hard he was sure his nails would draw blood...if this had been real.

'We are Initium. We have always been,' the woman hissed. 'Foolish child!'

Realising it would be petty at this point to point out he wasn't a child, he tried again. 'So, did they turn their back on an alliance between your peoples?'

'There was never an alliance. We made them, they worshipped us...then they decided they no longer needed us...that they were our equals. We had to stop them.'

'You created the Ancients?' Another surge in his pain was the reward for his disbelief. 'Okay, fine...you created them...but they didn't run from you, they ran from the Wraith.'

She tilted her head, looking on him with eyes so bright they made his own sting to focus on them. He could see she wanted him to think about what he was saying, so he did, wondering how the Wraith's involvement was pertinent. Then it dawned on him.

'You...you created the Wraith?'

She gave just one nod in response.

'No...no...the Ancients inadvertently created them when they seeded the galaxy,' he told her. He remembered the theory Carson had formulated well. It paid to know all you could about the enemy you were fighting.

'Do you really believe an enemy so singular in its purpose could purely be an accident of nature?'

And, no, now he thought about it, he supposed it was unlikely.

'The "Ancients" as you call them began to imitate us, to tamper with the lives we had created here in Pegasus, and then to create life of their own. Then they decided they no longer wished to imitate us, but become like us...to become pure energy and usurp our position in this galaxy. We could not allow that.'

'So you sent the Wraith to do your dirty work.'

Pain wracked him, folding him over again. They really didn't take criticism well.

'The Wraith were designed to rid the galaxy of the Lanteans and keep their creations in check. There was no need for us to make our presence felt. But the Lanteans were more intelligent than we gave them credit for, creating vessels capable of travelling at speeds our wonderful Wraith children could not achieve. Before we realised what they were planning to do, they left Pegasus and we lost track of them. We have spent the millennia since searching the universe for them. And now we have found what we need to reach them.'

'Atlantis.'

'Atlantis,' she echoed. 'In this city, the Wraith will be able to at last make the journey they couldn't make so many millennia ago.'

'Woolsey will never allow me to pilot the city after what just happened.'

She sneered and though pinned in place he longed to rise and wipe the smirk from her face. 'He will be dead at Wraith hands before you begin the journey.'

'The Wraith have to take over the city first. They're not gonna get past our defences.'

Her smile didn't slip, so confident was she that what she said would come to pass. 'Your people cannot stop us, John. Now...enough talk. It is time for you to wake up and play your part.'

'It's not going to happen. They won't let me compromise the city. They'll kill me if they have to,' he insisted.

Now her smile became almost sympathetic. 'Then prepare to die, John Sheppard...as many times as it takes.'

* * *

**A/N: Uh oh! That does not sound good for Shep! So now you know who the Initium are and what they want. Thanks again for all the comments, I'm always glad to hear what you think. :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 **

Richard had barely been asleep for more than half an hour when Amelia's voice woke him, calling him to the control room. He sighed, blinking his heavy lids and willing himself into full consciousness, before pushing back his covers, swinging his legs around and sitting up, waiting a second or two for his brain to catch up with the movement.

Once on his feet, he fumbled for his glasses – knocking a full tumbler of water from his nightstand in the process – then pulled on his uniform and staggered out into the corridor, still dressing himself as he went. Amelia would never wake him unless it was something urgent, he was well aware of that, but another crisis was the last thing they needed with their military commander currently causing them such concern. And he really needed to get some sleep.

By the time he reached the control room, his clothes were in good order, and the bleariness of dreams had completely left him. He immediately strode across to the young technician and asked for an update.

'Sir, a fleet of Wraith hive ships dropped out of hyperspace around half an hour ago. We've been tracking them, and if they continue on their current course, they'll make it to the city in three days.'

'They're heading our way?' he clarified, trying not to look as alarmed as he felt.

'If they continue on their present course, yes, sir.'

Though it could just be coincidence, he couldn't help but wonder if there was some connection between the Wraiths' sudden appearance and the troubles they were experiencing with their military commander. The Wraith could play mind-tricks, that had been one of the things they'd learned in the early days when dealing with them. Perhaps Sheppard's condition was just an evolution of those skills.

'Thank you, Amelia,' he said calmly, his tone belying the panic now screwing up his insides. It was normal to feel scared in such situations, he told himself. The key was to hide that fear and utilise it in a professional way. 'Raise the cloak and keep it in place until we're sure the threat has passed.'

Amelia nodded briskly, immediately putting his order into operation. Richard watched through the city's windows as the cloak flickered its way up, then became invisible as it formed a complete bubble over the construction, encapsulating them from the world beyond. Beyond it, the sky was clear and the stars shone out crisply against the blanket of darkness shrouding them. It looked so peaceful beyond the confines of that city, but there were always dangers lurking...unseen.

'Keep me updated on any unusual developments,' he told her, fiddling with the collar of his jacket, which he still found to be an uncomfortable fit. 'Hopefully with the cloak in place they'll fly right on by.'

'Yes, sir.'

With the threat hopefully averted, he decided to drop by the balcony above the isolation room. He saw all of Sheppard's team still in there, Ronon pacing while the others dozed lightly in their seats. The man remained very sick, deep in a coma, and they clearly knew that from the fact not one of them had dared to leave his bedside. He sighed, rubbing his face. He was tired and doubted any of them would relish his company right now...and they certainly didn't need to know of the Wraith presence heading their way. There were plenty of other people in the city who could monitor that situation without burdening Sheppard's team with more bad news. It would probably be best if he just returned to his room and got some sleep, ready to face whatever tomorrow had in store for them all.

The corridors were quiet now, many of his staff having retired for the night. He enjoyed the city when he could take the time to look at it. It was a truly breathtaking piece of architecture, but he barely ever had time to admire it as they lurched from one drama to another on an almost daily basis. He would take the opportunity to admire it now if he weren't so exhausted. But instead, his bed called to him, and he didn't have the strength to ignore the need to return to it. Hopefully, there would be no more call for him to be dashing down corridors until the sun rose now. Surely nothing else could go wrong tonight.

He reached his room and slipped out of his jacket again, noticing then the large damp patch on his mattress. So that was where the contents of his glass had landed. Deciding to turn it over, he soon realised that in the time he'd been absent, the water had seeped right through to the other side, so he couldn't sleep on that side either. He sighed, then checked his quilt. It was dry, as was his pillow, having been thrown back out of the way in his rush to get out of bed.

Too tired to think about seeking other accommodation for the night, Woolsey threw the quilt down on the floor then lay on it, wrapping it around himself for warmth. No doubt his aging bones would curse him for his decision in the morning, but right now he didn't have the energy to care.

...oooooo...

Sheppard woke and immediately began to choke on the foreign body lodged in his throat. When he tried to move his hands to dislodge whatever it was, he once again found he was unable to move his arms. Forcing apart his lids, he saw several alarmed faces peering down at him – his team.

'Try to stay calm, John,' Teyla soothed, stroking his forehead, while somewhere in the background he heard Rodney's panicked tones calling for Dr Keller.

In moments, his friends' faces had been replaced by those of the medical team, all taking readings and barking orders to one another. Sheppard desperately tried to remember how he had ended up like this; he vaguely recalled a session with Dr Smithson, though what they had talked about was pretty hazy. Then he remembered going to his room, having a disagreement with Rodney about...something, then falling. He must have hurt himself pretty badly when he'd collapsed...either that or he was sicker than he'd realised.

Eventually, Carson's face came into clear focus above him. 'All right, Colonel. Stay calm, and we'll make you more comfortable.'

Sheppard gave him his best "Get this thing the hell out of my throat" look, and hoped he understood.

Apparently he did. 'You've been in a coma for the past five hours, Colonel. That's why you're on a ventilator. Now stay calm, and we'll run a few tests to see if we can remove it.'

He nodded slightly to show he understood, the sensation of the tube pressing against the inside of his throat and making him gag. Carson laid a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

'All right, Colonel. I know it's uncomfortable, but we may be able to remove that tube soon. Normally, I'd want to leave it in place for a while, but these are far from normal circumstances. By rights, you shouldn't even be awake right now.'

His words triggered a feeling of foreboding in Sheppard. Something was wrong with him, but it wasn't anything medical. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes, screwing them shut against the pain. There was something he was supposed to remember – something important – but every time he tried to recall what it was, it scuttled away into the shady recesses of his memory out of reach.

Jennifer's face appeared in front of him now, and she shone her opthalmoscope into his eyes to judge his pupil reaction. He tried not to flinch away since it only aggravated the discomfort in his throat, but her light worsened the headache and left darks spots dancing in his vision.

'Eyes are open and pupils are now fully responsive,' she stated, her face a mask of cool professionalism, and lacking her usual warmth.

'Aye. Colonel, can you clench and unclench your right fist for me?' Carson asked.

Sheppard did as asked, then repeated the movement with his left hand when requested to.

'Okay, we have controlled motor skills,' Carson confirmed. 'Colonel, we have to test whether you're ready to come off the ventilator now. We're going to reduce the vent for a short time and monitor your oxygenation level. If it remains above ninety-five percent, we can take the tube out. Do you understand?'

Though the sensation was unpleasant, he nodded again, and Carson went to work, reducing the input of the ventilator to judge if he could breathe well unaided.

Sheppard looked around at everyone gathered around him now that the medical team had withdrawn a little to monitor his performance. He would have expected relief from his friends now that he was responding to treatment, but instead he felt a palpable tension, and not one of them appeared able to maintain eye contact with him for more than a second.

The door opened and he watched Woolsey stumble in, straightening his jacket. He looked exhausted as he smoothed his hands back over his hair, at least what little he had. 'Dr Keller, could I have a word?' he asked, guiding her aside with a hand to her elbow where they could speak quietly and not be overheard.

This wasn't good. Other than Carson, no one seemed to want to talk to him. And the cuffs...well, that wasn't exactly a positive sign.

Feeling increasingly agitated, Sheppard decided to join Carson in watching his oxygen levels. The results looked promising, and when the doctor announced his levels were holding steady at ninety-nine percent, he knew that meant he would soon be free of the choking vent tube.

Carson interrupted Jennifer and Woolsey to ensure she was happy with the findings, her sharp nods demonstrating she was. Her eyes briefly flicked Sheppard's way, then she turned her back to continue speaking with Richard. Sheppard felt the cool detachedness of the motion, something he found out of character for her. And if he hadn't been mistaken, he felt certain he'd seen a moment of fear in her eyes.

'All right, Colonel,' Carson chirped as he approached the bed and removed the tape from the tube, his cheeriness feeling more forced than usual. 'I want you to take a deep breath, then exhale as hard as you can. On three...one, two, three.'

Sheppard did as he asked, feeling the tug deep in his throat as Carson swiftly removed the tube from his airway. He coughed as it pulled free, frustrated by his lack of ability to cover his mouth, an instinctive movement for some reason denied to him.

Carson patted his shoulder. 'Steady, son. Let me help you to have a drink. Your throat might be sore for a little while, but considering the short time you were on the vent, it should soon be back to normal.'

He lifted a glass for Sheppard, feeding the straw between his parched lips. The colonel drank enough to lubricate his vocal chords, then turned his head away to signal he was done. He didn't like the atmosphere in the room. Everyone was still regarding him too warily, Jennifer and Woolsey now breaking up their little confab to join his nervous audience.

'So, what's with the cuffs?' he croaked, breaking the uneasy silence.

Everyone looked to Richard, and he took a step forward, tugging his jacket straight before answering. 'A necessary precaution, Colonel. I'm sure you agree considering your earlier behaviour.'

Sheppard frowned, and he saw the way the expressions around him changed. They could see he had no idea what Woolsey meant. 'Earlier behaviour?' he echoed.

'Yes...you remember...you tried to fly the city without consulting any of us,' Woolsey prompted, straightening up and giving him a disapproving look.

Sheppard felt like a schoolboy sent to see the principal...not that he'd ever let that intimidate him, even as a child.

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' he told him, steadily holding Woolsey's reproachful gaze.

'Are you telling me you have no recollection of sitting in the control chair with several marines aiming their weapons at you?'

Sheppard continued to stare back at Richard's incredulous face. He imagined a little thing like that really should ring a bell. 'Yes...that's what I'm telling you. What's this all about, Richard? What the hell is going on?'

'Mr Woolsey, may I explain?' Teyla asked, stepping up to his side.

Seemingly relieved for her offer, Woolsey gave her a nod and granted her permission.

'We believe something happened to you while you were trapped on P5G 598 that is still having...repercussions,' she began. She walked closer to the bed, resting a reassuring hand on top of his.

'What kind of thing happened?' he demanded, the strength of his demand making his throat ache. He didn't need Teyla's sympathy right now, even if she thought it would help him – he needed answers.

'Remember what I said about returning to the planet and hearing the voices?' Rodney called to him, keeping his distance.

'No.' No, he didn't, but flashes of his last conversation with Rodney popped into his head unbidden, and he suspected he maybe should. A pain stabbed behind his left eye, making him hiss and screw his eyes shut.

'John, are you all right?' Teyla gasped, adding her other hand to his arm.

'Just a headache...tell me more about the voices,' he ordered, forcing himself to focus on McKay.

Rodney nodded and continued, edging toward the bed. 'We travelled back to P5G 598 to gather some more information. You'd been acting kinda weird, and we figured it had to do with something you came in contact with on the planet. But then we heard these voices, criticising us...they kinda reminded me of my mother actually...'

'Rodney!' Teyla's annoyance soon got him back on track.

'They said things like "Worthless", you know, stuff to undermine our confidence...it was pretty creepy.'

Sheppard knew that sounded familiar, but was crippled by pain when he tried to think why.

'Maybe we should stop with the explanation,' Carson suggested, apparently concerned by his reactions.

'No,' Sheppard insisted. 'I want to know what everyone else knows.'

'We think the beings inhabiting P5G 598 are telepathic and telekinetic. They can apparently control meteorological and geological elements on their planet. That's how they were able to make the rock grow up around you the way they did. Can you remember anything about it?'

A brief flash of white, then noise, light and pain had Sheppard thrashing against the bed in painful recollection.

'Okay, how about we don't ask Colonel Sheppard what he remembers any more?' Carson insisted.

'I have to agree,' Jennifer said, examining his monitors. 'His heart rate and blood pressure have already risen more than we'd like.'

'But don't you see? This could be important,' Rodney snapped, clearly annoyed by their intervention. 'Sheppard, we think this "species" might have brain-washed you, and I think the fact you experience memory loss and pain whenever we bring the subject up shows you've been programmed not to tell us what happened.'

Sheppard narrowed his eyes, his head now pounding and his patience wearing thin. '_Programmed_? I'm not one of your damned computers, Rodney.'

'Not you as a whole, no. But your brain is _exactly _like a computer, and just as I can programme systems to react a certain way to a certain instruction, the human brain can be programmed to behave in a similar manner.'

'And my instruction is not to remember anything? What good is that?' Sheppard snorted.

'Well, judging by the fact that a little over six hours ago you were firing up the city's engines, I'd say the beings on that planet want the city, and would prefer that we don't know why.'

Feeling suddenly dizzy, Sheppard let his head drop back to the pillow. Something about what Rodney was saying rang true, no matter how ridiculous it sounded to him. A flash of memory shot painfully through his head – Wraith!

'The Wraith need it...' His voice petered out and he opened his eyes, seeing the puzzled faces staring back at him, all but Woolsey. His face was sombre as he pushed to the front of the group.

'The Wraith want this city?' he asked.

His pain peaking again, Sheppard tried to focus on where those words had come from, but he was fighting a losing battle, he could barely remember his own name past the aching. 'I...I don't even know...why I said that...'

'No...but I think it would be a good idea if we found out why,' Woolsey told him. 'And if you can't tell us what we need to know, Dr Smithson and I have already discussed methods to extricate the information from your obviously suppressed memories.'

'Methods...what...methods?'

This was beginning to feel like some kind of hideous nightmare, it certainly had all the right elements. Briefly, Sheppard wondered if he was still unconscious after collapsing in his room...then he heard his voice bellow, 'WHAT METHODS?' again, choking as his roughened throat reacted to the force of his voice, and wondering why he'd yelled at Woolsey when he hadn't even wanted to say that.

Fear registered on some of the faces, even Woolsey's for a moment. They were afraid of him. What had he been doing that had them so scared?

'Since returning from P5G 598, it's clear you haven't been quite yourself,' Woolsey began, clasping his hands behind his back. 'Something happened to you on that planet, your physical injuries showed as much, but I have a feeling what we saw on the outside was only the beginning, the proverbial tip of the iceberg. Dr Smithson is a trained hypnotherapist; if some part of your subconscious mind knows what the Wraith have in mind for this city, she will be able to unlock it.'

As he finished speaking, the strangest sensation came over Sheppard, as if someone had caught hold of the back of his scrubs and was pulling him down into a deep, dark hole. In his mind, dozens of voices spoke of the need to break free, to get out of isolation, to get to the control room. Their buzzing was incessant...overwhelming...they made it so he couldn't think for himself any more...couldn't hear what the others were saying. He felt anger erupting inside him, anger that wasn't his. He didn't want to be hypnotised, but he understood the need. He certainly didn't hate them for it, but that was his overriding emotion as he felt himself slipping away, losing his grip on his consciousness...

'No hypnosis!' he heard himself growl, watching as his arms tugging against his restraints. He wasn't doing that. Why were they moving that way?

'I'm sorry, Colonel Sheppard, but that choice is no longer yours to make. Your earlier actions show you pose a significant threat to Atlantis. As a result, I'm ordering the procedure to go ahead as soon as possible. Dr Carson, Dr Keller, we'll need one of you to administer the sedatives.'

'I said no! I have rights!' Sheppard heard himself yell. But he hadn't wanted to say that either. Who was making him say these things? Was Rodney right after all? Had someone programmed him to react that way?

'I'm sorry, but not where the safety of this city is concerned.' Woolsey walked right up to the bars on the bed now and looked down on him, no hint of superiority in his expression, rather something resembling sadness. 'And if you were the John Sheppard I knew before you were trapped on that planet, you wouldn't even try to refuse.'

Some part of him, some deeply buried part that remained the John Sheppard of old, applauded the man for realising that. But the other part, the seething mass of anger and resentment strapped to that bed, wanted nothing more than to snap his puny neck.

So, with one mighty wrench, he freed his right arm from the cuff holding it, and grabbed Woolsey's jacket front, dragging him down to his level.

Richard shrieked, and the next thing Sheppard knew, two hundred pounds of Satedan landed on him, prising his fingers from the fabric and trying to pin his arm to the bed. Ripping it free, he landed a hook that split the man's lip.

Ignoring it, Ronon got a grip on him again. 'A little help here?'

Before he knew it, Sheppard was wrestling not only a Satedan man mountain, but two over-zealous marines, their elbows and knees making crunching contact with various parts of his anatomy to knock the fight out of him. And if it had just been him there in that body on the bed he would have yielded in a heartbeat, but the voices in his head kept telling him to break free...to get to the control room.

Something stabbed into his neck and released a cold payload into his body. The voices quieted for just a few seconds, but then they returned, shouting for him to fight on. His other arm tore free and began pounding on the men holding him on that bed. But they held fast, determined to subdue him.

A second stab, and cool liquid entered his bloodstream again. The voices blurred, this time for longer.

_Do it again!_ he mentally begged them, wishing he could form the words to ask them himself.

Thankfully someone did, regardless of whether he could verbalise the request, and he felt whoever was inside his mind begin to lose their grip on it and his body just a little more.

'Another 50 mgs!' he heard Carson's voice shout, just as more marines piled in through the door and ran to the bed to restrain him.

One more sharp prick, and he finally saw the welcome tunnelling of his vision, warning him his mind was shutting down. His struggles weakened, and the marines and Ronon were finally able to restrain him enough to strap on some new cuffs, this time much thicker and stronger than the last set.

Just as he felt himself begin to slip away he heard Woolsey give the command to call Dr Smithson. He only hoped the woman could drag out of him what he so desperately needed them to know.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 **

When the fog began to clear from Sheppard's mind, he could hear voices talking nearby –Carson and Dr Smithson, if he wasn't mistaken. They were discussing him...his behaviour prior to the sedation. He vaguely remembered struggling with several people, but not really wanting to.

_Stop fighting us, John, or people will get hurt._

Still a little high on drugs, he sputtered out a laugh, getting the attention of both doctors present. 'You're gonna kill us all anyway,' he slurred, bringing them to the side of his bed.

'Colonel Sheppard, can you hear me, son?' Carson asked, his bright eyes brimming with concern.

'Hey, Carson! I feel kinda weird...'

'That's normal, son...we have you sedated, so you should be feeling nice and relaxed.'

'Yeah...relaxed...that's how I feel,' he drawled, which was a fairly weird feeling for him. Normally, he faked his casual attitude while just waiting for the next bad thing to happen. He remember being this relaxed back in the early days...his excitement about discovering new things within the city, getting a kick out of throwing Rodney off a balcony...but that all seemed so long ago now.

_They're going to hypnotise you. You need to shut them out._

'Shut who out?' Dr Smithson's face leaned over him. 'Oh...her.'

Dr Smithson narrowed her eyes at his, examining his expression. 'Can you hear voices, John?'

He was about to say yes, but the shaft of pain needling through his left eye put a stop to that. Whatever dulling affect the sedative had had on his mental companions when he first woke was unfortunately already wearing off.

Carson was immediately pushing the psychologist aside. 'Are you in pain, Colonel?'

Pressing his lips together to suppress a yelp, all Sheppard could do was nod in the affirmative. That earned him another wave of sickening agony, and since his wrists we restrained, all he could do was arch against it.

'Brilliant...if he's in this much pain before we even start, I'm not sure this is such a good idea, Dr Smithson,' the kindly doctor protested.

'We need to begin, Dr Carson. Just increase his sedative a little to make him as comfortable as we can without knocking him out,' Dr Smithson ordered, elbowing her way back to the forefront again.

John saw Carson look up to the viewing window. Great! He had a readymade audience. His team along with Woolsey. Woolsey nodded to show Carson he should do what Dr Smithson had asked.

Sheppard let his head fall back onto the pillows and tried to breathe through the pain, feeling it lessen just a little as the sedatives took hold. His mind felt as if it was lifting out of him, floating away. It was both simultaneously disconcerting and surprisingly pleasant in the relief it brought to him.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor brought him back from his trip into the ether, and he opened his eyes to find Dr Smithson now sitting beside him.

'Are you comfortable now, John?'

'I guess,' he replied, smirking at the silly way he'd slurred his words.

'Good, now I want you to close your eyes and cast your mind back for me. Can you go back to the day you led your team to P5G 598?'

Though he was generally pretty sceptical about the validity of hypnosis, images immediately floated into his mind as he thought back to that day – a sparse landscape, warm, dry air, no sounds. A feeling of unease and a desire to get the mission over with.

_You do not need to remember._

But he did...he did remember something now.

'Can you picture that day?' Dr Smithson's voice asked from somewhere a very long way away.

'The mission is a bust. I'm just about to turn the jumper round and head back to the gate, but McKay thinks he's made a breakthrough.'

'You land the jumper?'

A dull ache started behind his eyes, but Sheppard did his best to ignore it. 'Yeah, I'm landing it and we're heading out on foot to track the power source McKay's found. You can tell it's important 'cos he hasn't even moaned about his boots once.'

He heard Carson huff out a muffled laugh somewhere in the back of his mind, but was too tired to open his eyes and see the man's merriment. He felt like he could sleep forever...

'But the mission didn't go so well, did it?'

That was Smithson, again. Always pestering. She thought she knew so much.

'No, the energy readings keep moving away from us. I'm calling the mission and ordering everyone to head back to the jumper.'

'Can you remember what happened then, John?'

_She thinks you're insane...she does not know what she's doing._

'Just shut up and let her work!' he grumbled, feeling brave since the voice didn't seem able to hurt him right now. He felt like there was something he should tell them about the voice, something important...but he couldn't fathom what it was...everything was still too hazy.

He heard a shift of fabric and opened his eyes to see Smithson now standing beside his bed and gazing down at him. 'The voices, John. What are they saying?'

'They say you don't know what you're doing – huh! Everyone's a critic these days.'

The slightest hint of a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. 'Not to worry. I have very broad shoulders,' she told him. 'You were telling me about your journey back to the jumper on P5G 598...'

'Uhmm, well...we're almost back at the jumper...no...owwww! Wait...wait...argh! Something hit me. I don't know what it was, but it feels as if something punched me in the chest so hard it lifted me off my feet.'

'Go on,' Dr Smithson urged.

'Okay...It slammed me against a rock– hard. I'm winded and I can't move. I can't move!'

'All right, John. Remember this isn't real any more. You're safe, so try to stay calm. Take a few deep breaths.'

Sheppard did as she suggested, feeling his thumping heart rate begin to slow even though, in his mind, he was still pinned to that rock, the sensation filling him with a sense of utter helplessness.

'Can you continue?' Smithson asked.

'There's some kind of force shield around me...Ronon's firing on it, but it's making no difference...Arrgghhhh!'

'What is it, John?'

'NOISE! MY EARS!'

Dr Smithson spoke clearly and deliberately at his side, cutting through the din. 'You're not there now, Colonel Sheppard. Detach yourself, take a step back and watch as if you're watching a TV show.'

He nodded, panting again to regain his breath and steady himself. 'There's noise...and light, it's hurting us. I'm telling the others to go!'

'And that's when your friends leave you.'

'They don't want to, but they don't have a choice. They can't help me like this.'

'So your friends take the jumper back to Atlantis to bring help. What happens to you?'

Sheppard reflexively screwed his eyes shut in sympathy with the recollection he was seeing, his mental self folding under the worsening deluge of sound and light. 'I'm collapsing...passing out...it's all going black...I can't see anything else.'

_Enough, _several voices hissed inside his head, setting his follicles to rigid attention.

'I want you to move on now, John, to the next moment you're conscious. Open your eyes and tell me what you can see.'

He did as she instructed him, opening his eyes to the white cell he'd buried somewhere deep in his psyche. 'White...everywhere's white.' A pain bolted through the centre of his brain, but he gritted his teeth and forged through it.

'White?'

He could plainly hear the puzzlement in her question, but he knew what he could see, and every damn way he looked was white.

'That's what I said,' he confirmed, but his concentration was broken at that point by a crippling pain...just about everywhere at once. The electrical currents had returned, tearing through him, contorting his muscles to the point they felt they were tying themselves up in knots. Much as he might want to speak, those voices meant to do everything in their power to prevent him. No longer able to contain it, he let go of his pent up scream.

'Uhnn...arrrrggghhh!'

...oooooo...

Up on the observation balcony, Rodney watched in horror as Sheppard convulsed against the bed. The communication channel between the balcony and the isolation room had been left open so they could follow proceedings, and that scream remained echoing around McKay's head long after it had finished.

'This is a bad idea...a bad idea...' he muttered to himself, nervously chewing a loose piece of skin on his thumb.

'What's happening, John? Are they hurting you again?' Dr Smithson asked, trying to prise information from their friend even as he thrashed against his restraints and the bed.

Sheppard forced open his eyes, tears streaming down his temples. 'No! Hurting...now!' he grunted through clenched teeth. 'Can't sp...speak!'

McKay watched with an odd mixture of horror and amusement as Carson almost bowled Dr Smithson aside. 'Where's the pain?' he asked.

'Every...where!'

The doctor took hold of his head and turned it to face him. 'I need you to focus, Colonel. Can you be more specific?'

'Everywh...where...at once!'

'Okay...I'm calling this session to an end,' Carson told the psychologist beside him, much to McKay's relief.

'We're just getting somewhere, Dr Beckett. That's why his pain has increased. We can't end now. You need to find a way to manage his pain so I can continue.'

'Perhaps we should stop this,' Teyla croaked, her voiced strained with emotion. She looked over to Woolsey. 'I do not believe this is benefitting anyone, least of all Colonel Sheppard.'

Down below in the isolation room, Carson was clearly of the same opinion, standing up to the stony-faced psychologist. 'You can't be serious...look at the state he's in! There no way –'

'HOT!' Sheppard yelled. 'B...BURNING!'

'I don't get it,' Rodney squeaked, gaping down at the horrors unfolding before them. 'Is he actually feeling this or reliving it?'

'I am not certain,' Teyla breathed, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. 'But I cannot bear to see him like this. Is there nothing we can do?'

Woolsey thankfully broke his silence. 'Dr Smithson, I believe we should end this session and begin again at a time when Colonel Sheppard is more comfortable.'

She lifted her gaze to them, hard eyes meeting theirs, critical of their stance. 'He is programmed not to recall. This will happen again each time we try. I might as well continue now.'

'Enough...please enough!' Sheppard whimpered.

'How can she push him like this?' Rodney demanded turning his back to watch the screen as if that somehow diluted the effect of what he was witnessing. 'This is inhumane.'

'We have to trust that Dr Smithson knows what she's doing, Dr McKay. Perhaps we should leave this to her professional judgement,' Woolsey replied, though he didn't look convinced.

'Don't let the begging fool you,' she called up to them from Sheppard's bedside. 'This could all be part of the programming.'

'What does this woman do for kicks, drown puppies?' McKay whined. He knew everything she said might be true, but he couldn't understand how she could stand by so dispassionately while Sheppard suffered right in front of her.

'She's right, McKay. Whenever she tries this, he's gonna hit this barrier,' Ronon rumbled. 'Sheppard has to break through it.'

He was speaking his support, but McKay could feel tension exuding from the Satedan's every muscle. He wanted to be down there doing something to help, but just like the rest of them, there was nothing he could do to fix Sheppard right now.

'What's in the white cell, John? What do you see? What do you hear?' Smithson coaxed, pressing the colonel for more.

His body bucked again, wrists twisting hard against the restraints, and he screamed out, 'Enough!'

But Smithson would not be thrown off course. She reached over and grasped Sheppard by the shoulders. 'The pain isn't real, John. It's all in your mind. I need you to focus. What's in that white cell with you?'

'Nothing!' he screamed back at her. 'Just white...just w...white.'

Rodney cringed at the pain etched on his friend's face, the bewilderment, the unspoken plea for help. Right now, he could happily walk right into that room and pop Dr Smithson on the nose and not feel a second of remorse, whether she believed she was helping Sheppard or not.

But seconds later, it became clear Sheppard didn't need their help to defend himself from her. 'We said ENOUGH!' he bellowed, his eyes now fixing on Smithson in a ferocious glare. The pain seemed suddenly forgotten. Now, he just looked mad as all hell, fury scoring deep into his features.

'What's wrong with him? He looks – wait! What did he say..?' Rodney stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realising something. Sheppard had said "we", not "I" but "we".

'Dr Beckett...what's happening?' Woolsey demanded, gripping on tightly to the rail in front of him.

McKay looked down into the isolation room to see the look of utter disbelief on the startled medic's face. 'I...I have no idea.'

'I think you should all leave the room...give the colonel some space to calm down,' Woolsey ordered.

Smithson had backed away a little, her jaw hanging open. No one seemed to be able to leave. Even the security detail on the door appeared to be rooted to the spot, unwilling to make a move for the door.

'Get them out of there!' Ronon said, a normally controlled edge of urgency clear in his tone.

But Smithson, gathering herself, tried once again to break through the wall he was running up against and drag out the information they needed. 'Who am I talking to? Who is this?' she demanded, assuming her mask of authority.

Sheppard glared, his eyes boring into her, his pale face a mask of barely controlled rage. 'You cannot hope to understand.'

'That doesn't sound like Sheppard,' McKay whispered, and a little voice in the back of his mind started repeating the mantra, _Please don't let his head spin – please don't let his head spin!_

Carson took hold of Smithson's arm and tried guiding her to the door. 'Doctor, I really dothink we should bring this session to an end,' he suggested, politely but firmly grasping onto her and tugging her away from the bed.

Unfortunately, it looked like the psychologist was having none of it. She clearly meant to finish her work to maintain her perfect scorecard. 'Why don't you explain who you are to me? I might surprise you,' Smithson goaded, ripping her arm free of Carson's grip.

Up in the balcony, they watched, holding their breath, to see what Sheppard would do next. The colonel sat up, breaking his restraints as if they were made of paper, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, his eyes bright with an unnatural glow. A sneering smile spreading across his face, one so unlike Sheppard's own warm smile it made McKay shudder.

The security detail immediately aimed their weapons, shouting instructions to Sheppard to stay where he was and keep his hands where they could see them. In the balcony, Ronon suddenly bolted, almost knocking McKay over in his hurry to get in there and help.

'Ronon!' Teyla called after him, sprinting away in his wake, leaving McKay and Woolsey alone in that balcony to witness what happened next.

Sheppard defied their orders and jumped off the bed, body tensed as if ready to pounce, and strode toward Smithson, at which point the two marines put a bullet each into his legs.

'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!' Rodney whispered, covering his mouth as Sheppard stumbled down to one knee. Then the colonel screamed, light erupting from him as he threw back his head and let out his unearthly yowl.

'What's happening to him?' Woolsey breathed as the monitoring equipment in the room began to spark and flicker out. The screen beside them in the observation room fizzled in a startling spray of fiery particles.

'He's giving off some kind of energy...it's effecting the machinery.'

The next scream that ripped through the air was far worse, and they watched in horrified incredulity as four balls of light exploded from Sheppard's body and shot out around the room, eventually homing in like heat seeking missiles and striking the four people in the room with him.

They dropped to the floor – dead weights.

Deathly silence fell.

McKay stared in utter disbelief at what his friend had done. This was worse than he had even begun to imagine. Sheppard wasn't just brainwashed, something had taken possession of his body. Head-spinning would have been good compared to this.

'Can he get out of there?' Woolsey asked, coming quickly to his senses.

Rodney immediately contacted the control room, ordering them to apply an alternating security code to the isolation room door. 'But we have to get the others out,' he added as an afterthought.

'For the time being, I'm afraid they will have to remain in that room,' Woolsey said, his voice flat, eyes fixed on Sheppard.

'What? You can't be serious! You saw how dangerous he is. He broke those restraints as if they were made of Jell-O!'

'I know exactly what I saw, Dr McKay,' Woolsey said, raising his voice above him. 'I saw several balls of energy leave Colonel Sheppard's body and enter the other people in that room. If that energy is what is currently controlling the colonel, we can't risk letting any of them out of there.'

McKay looked down at the chaos in the room beneath them, machines still sparking, lights flickering, and Sheppard in the middle of it all, the bottom half of his scrubs stained with the evidence that he was bleeding out from his gunshot wounds.

'We have to do something! He needs medical help,' he whimpered, just as Ronon and Teyla returned.

'We heard shots, but we can't get into the – What the...!'

Ronon was rarely genuinely shocked, but Rodney watched the colour drain from him as he took in the scene in the isolation room.

'Sheppard isn't just brainwashed – there's something inside him. It fired out at the others...and they...'

'Are they dead?' the Satedan grunted, not looking at him.

'I...I don't...'

'Control...could you please check for life signs in the isolation room?' Woolsey requested.

'_Sorry, sir. The scanners in that area appear to have malfunctioned.'_

'Get Zelenka on it!' McKay barked at Amelia.

'_Yes, sir.'_

Sheppard looked up at them now, blood still oozing from his legs, and took a few faltering steps closer to the window. His lips moved, but they couldn't hear him.

'Communications are down...I'll work on it,' Rodney announced, slipping a minute tool pack from his pocket and prising the panel off the control crystals to effect repairs. Quickly bypassing the damaged systems, the sound was soon restored.

' – to stop me,' he heard Sheppard's voice say, though the tone was definitely not him.

'I'm sorry, we didn't hear the beginning of what you said because you had damaged communications. Perhaps you could repeat it?' Woolsey asked calmly.

Sheppard's eyes narrowed, but he didn't repeat himself as requested.

After a pause, Woolsey spoke up again. 'All right, as you seem to have lost your voice, why don't I begin? I am Richard Woolsey, commander of this city. Who am I speaking to?'

A slight smile twisted the corners of Sheppard's mouth, but he still didn't speak.

'Come now, we've all witnessed your impressive show of power, there seems little point in withholding on us now.'

McKay had to admit to himself that he was pretty impressed with Woolsey's style. He looked completely in control, despite the fact he had to be as terrified as he was.

Sheppard raised his chin and replied simply, 'We have no name.'

'Then let us rephrase the question – what are you?' McKay asked, his voice quaking as Sheppard's soulless eyes shifted to him.

'We are more than you can even begin to imagine.'

'Oh great...you can't beat an arrogant alien,' he muttered, silencing when he saw Teyla's stern look.

'There must be something we can call you,' she tried, clearly hoping the gentler approach would work. 'A word that defines what you are, perhaps.'

After a pause, Sheppard said, 'We are Initium.'

'Is that Latin or Ancient or something,' McKay asked, looking to Woolsey.

'It is,' the man nodded. 'It means "the beginning".'

'The beginning, what kind of a name is that?' McKay huffed.

'One that defines us,' Sheppard replied. 'It is what you requested.'

Woolsey rubbed his mouth, his first physical sign of his stress, and looked across at McKay. 'I think I've heard that term somewhere...' he mused.

'Yeah, maybe not the best time for reminiscing.'

Woolsey shot McKay a withering look, but apparently agreed enough to resume conversation with "Sheppard". 'So...Initium...why do you want this city? What is it you want from us?'

A tinkling sound distracted them all, and a flash of light hitting metal near Sheppard's feet caught McKay's eye. It was a bullet.

'Oh crap,' he breathed. 'He's healing!'

Licking his dry lips, Woolsey posed the question again. 'What do you want from us?'

'We want you all to die,' was the straightforward reply.

Woolsey stepped back as if shaken too much to maintain his balance, then activated his earpiece. 'Major Lorne, I need a heavy security presence in the corridors surrounding the isolation room, now!'

'_Yes, sir.'_

Then he turned to McKay, his face assembled into his normal efficient facade. 'Find a way to get those things out of them, Doctor. I want them removed from this city as soon as possible.'

_Oh great, _McKay thought, watching him go, _and as ever the responsibility for saving the city falls squarely on my shoulders!_

But as he looked down at his one time friend, with his lips now pulled back in a smile more reminiscent of a dog's snarl, he knew he wouldn't trust anyone else to fix things anyway.

* * *

**A/N: Oh heck! I don't think that was quite the outcome Dr Smithson had in mind! Thank you to those of you continuing to follow the story; your support and comments are much appreciated, as always! :D**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 **

Woolsey returned to the observation balcony with Major Lorne and Dr Keller in tow. In the interim, McKay had been down to his lab to collect equipment with which he could patch into the systems in the isolation room, once Zelenka had them back up and running, and was now busily setting things up in anticipation of his colleague's success.

Woolsey glanced through the window, as if needing to ascertain for himself that Sheppard was still contained, and then addressed the colonel's team. 'We have a security detail on the corridor outside the observation room, ready to tranquilise him should he successfully find a way to leave that room. Has he spoken to any of you since I left?'

'No, he just paces the room,' Teyla told him. 'Sometimes he stops and appears to study the door control, but he has made no attempt to activate it.'

'Could we stop referring to Sheppard as if he's the bad guy here?' Rodney requested. 'It's "them", not him. You heard them call themselves "we".'

'Very well, Dr McKay,' Woolsey agreed. 'One thing we do know is _they_ are allied some way with the Wraith, and that makes them a formidable enemy. We have to get them out of this city.'

'Oh yes...about the Wraith...when exactly were you going to tell us about the fleet heading our way?' McKay demanded, folding his arms and glaring over them at their leader.

'I'm sorry for not updating you all about that sooner, Dr McKay, but I felt you had more pressing things on your mind. There were others capable of monitoring the situation,' Woolsey graciously apologised.

Feeling bad for being so snippy, Rodney huffed out a weak, 'Huh...I see,' chin still jutted as he tried to save face.

'Thank you for your consideration,' Teyla said, giving him a faint smile, and Rodney a warning glance.

'How much longer before they get here?' Ronon asked, and Rodney watched as his hand instinctively slipped to his gun at the thought of the battle ahead. There were times he really wished he was wired more like Ronon. The Satedan actually seemed to relish the thought of doing battle with the Wraith, while his own automatic response was to concentrate on not losing his lunch. Sure, he could focus when it came down to the absolute life and death moment of conflict, but that didn't stop him practically peeing his pants at the thought of what might happen.

'Less than three days now,' Woolsey told them. 'But we've activated the city's cloak so we're hoping they'll fly by without spotting us.'

McKay noticed now that Sheppard had stopped pacing and appeared to be listening to their conversation.

'Hear anything good?' he snapped at whatever lurked within his friend.

'You cannot hide from them...they will find you,' he replied, giving him Sheppard's trademark crooked smirk.

McKay hated to see them using Sheppard that way. That was a smile he'd come to both love and loath, but it was Sheppard's smile, not theirs to fire off at him. He switched off the communications between the two rooms. 'I think this is a conversation best kept from them.'

'I agree, but I'm still wondering what the Wraith want with the city. From the fact this "Initium" want Colonel Sheppard to fly it, they can't just be on their way to cull us,' Woolsey said, leaning back against the rail.

'Give me some time with them...maybe I can convince them to talk,' Ronon growled.

And Rodney knew what tactics the Satedan was insinuating they should employ. 'Are you insane...that's Sheppard down there,' he bleated, jaw hanging in disbelief.

'You just said it wasn't him,' Ronon pointed out.

'Well...not up here.' Rodney tapped his temple. 'But physically he's still our Sheppard. You wanna kick his ass when none of this is his fault?'

'He'll heal up again...you saw what happened with the bullets.'

'Which makes your suggestion all the more pointless!'

'No one is going into that room!' Woolsey stated, raising his voice above the mayhem and bringing the discussion to order. 'There are four people already lying unconscious or worse in there...I'm not about to lose any more personnel to these...beings.'

Jennifer walked over to the viewing window and looked down at the colonel. 'I think he can still hear us,' she said, and when Rodney joined her he saw the unnerving sneer on Sheppard's face that had given her that impression.

'Oh, crap!' he breathed. 'Of course they can hear us. They're telepathic.'

'Then there may be nowhere in this city where we can speak unheard,' Teyla sighed. 'How are we to gain an advantage when the Initium has such a skill?'

'Well, I'm pretty sure they need to actually tune in to specific people to "hear" what's going on,' Rodney explained, running a hand back through his ruffled hair. 'At least we have them contained for the time being. They can't so much with any information they gain while they're stuck in the isolation room.'

Sheppard's smile broadened into a fierce grin now, his bright eyes fixed on McKay in a challenging glare.

'Okay...that's getting really creepy,' McKay squeaked, and Jennifer put an arm around his shoulder to loan him her support.

'Dr Keller, do you have any idea what this alien might be doing to the colonel?' Woolsey asked. 'Do you believe it will be possible to safely remove it?'

She turned to face Woolsey, offering up an uncertain shrug. 'It's hard to know. We found no sign of it during any of the tests we've run, so it's obviously able to hide itself well. But if it's inside him, and can leave him to attack others, then I suppose it could be some kind of energy being, right?'

'Energy _beings_,' Rodney corrected. 'Yeah, I think that's a fair assessment from what we've seen.'

'Is it possible they're ascended Ancients?' Woolsey suddenly asked. 'Those orbs looked something like the descriptions of Ancient beings I've read in mission reports. Is that why they're so interested in the colonel? Maybe his strong ATA gene attracted them to him.'

Below, in the isolation room, Sheppard began to rage, his face livid with anger.

'Turn on communications,' Woolsey ordered.

'...dare you insult us by suggesting we are the same as those usurpers!'

'I take it that's a no,' Jennifer said softly, giving Woolsey a sheepish grin.

'Usurpers...' Woolsey repeated, frowning. 'So they feel the Ancients wronged them somehow...'

'We are Initium. We have always been, and always will be,' Sheppard growled at them.

'What do you know about the Wraith heading toward this city?' Woolsey asked, pressing on since their 'guests' seemed suddenly more talkative.

'They will be your death,' the colonel hissed, fists balled in fury.

'Yes...yes...we can all work that much out. Other than that?' McKay asked, earning himself a filthy glare from the man looking up at them.

'You are an intelligent man, Dr McKay. We are certain you will work it out.'

'Oh, very cryptic. Thank you!' he snorted.

'Presumably these aliens need Colonel Sheppard, or they would have left him by now,' Major Lorne surmised, hands clutching his tranquiliser gun tightly. 'Maybe they can't exist without a human host.'

'No, I think the reason they're in Colonel Sheppard may be more specific than that,' Jennifer told him. 'They want the city, so obviously they need to possess the body of someone with the gene, but perhaps their existence as become somehow symbiotic.'

'So you think they're reliant on Sheppard for something?' Rodney asked.

'We do not need him,' Sheppard's voice bellowed, interrupting him. 'We are merely utilising this body for our purposes. We are Initium. We created all things...we are part of all things. We do not rely on anyone else.'

'Except when you need to fly Ancient cities to the Wraith,' Rodney pointed out.

Sheppard glared, then folded his arms and turned away.

'Oh yes, very mature. You really are the epitome of omnipotence!'

Sheppard remained facing away from them and didn't respond.

'Considering what we have seen them capable of, might it not be better to refrain from goading them?' Teyla suggested calmly.

'Well, how do you suggest we deal with them?' McKay demanded of her. 'They're not exactly the most rational beings we've ever come across.'

'Perhaps we should ask them why they feel such animosity towards the Ancestors. If we begin to understand that, then perhaps we can negotiate with them and gain the freedom of Colonel Sheppard and the others.'

'Could be worth a try,' Ronon agreed. 'You should word it like the Ancestors were in the wrong...might win 'em over.'

'You think _I_ should speak with them?' Teyla asked, looking to Woolsey for instruction.

'Well, you are quite the negotiator, I hear. And you don't possess the ATA gene. If you would like to try...' he told her.

Teyla nodded and stepped up to the window to address the entities lurking within her friend and colleague. 'I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagan –'

'We know who you are,' he replied, cutting her short. 'John Sheppard knows you well. He is most insistent that we do not harm you.'

'Then he is aware of what is happening here?' she asked, peering over her shoulder at the others.

'Oh, yes. He is conscious of everything that happens to this body, and to those around him.'

McKay felt his stomach do a nauseous flip. Sheppard would be frantic in there now, knowing four people were lying injured in the room with him. And the marines had shot him...that would have been agony. Now he felt more thankful that Sheppard had healed so rapidly.

'We are at a loss to know what injury we have caused you that would make you act this way toward us,' Teyla ventured. 'Please...explain what we have done.'

Sheppard tilted his head. 'You have caused us no injury, child of Athos. But you choose to give your loyalty to the descendents of the Lanteans. That is a mistake.'

'What is it the Lanteans did to wrong you?'

'They threatened the very purpose of our existence.'

Again, Teyla looked around at the others, and they urged her to go on. 'If you are as powerful as you say, surely they could be no threat.'

'We thought not, at first. We nurtured them...shared our wisdom to an extent their meagre brains could understand, but that was not enough for them. They became greedy for knowledge, desperate to know more than we shared with them. And they tampered with all the Initium had created, tainting everything with their less-than-perfect touch.'

'Everything you had created?'

Sheppard's eyes narrowed in anger. 'You thought the ones you call the Ancestors were the ones who created life here in Pegasus. But the Initium have always been, and always will be.'

'Wait a minute...are you saying _you_ created the Ancients?' Rodney butted in, suddenly grasping the import of their words.

'Is that so hard to believe?' Sheppard asked him.

'Oh...this is big...this is very big...'

'And you feel the Ancients encroached on your...role here, for want of a better word?' Woolsey clarified, joining in the discourse.

'They turned their backs on us and began seeding this galaxy, unbalancing the ecologies we had so carefully created. It took centuries for us to make the worlds they changed safe and sustaining for those living upon them, and all the credit went to them.'

'But I notice you didn't get rid of the Wraith,' McKay snorted. 'That would have been the one thing you could have done to really ensure their safety.'

'You believe the Wraith to be a mistake in their careless experiments?' Again Sheppard tilted his head in a way Rodney found irritatingly patronising.

'Are you saying they're n – no, no...wait a minute..._you_ created the Wraith, too?'

Sheppard nodded and gave him a slow handclap. 'We augmented their evolution. They were intended to be a harsh lesson to all who tried to rise to greatness too quickly in this galaxy.'

'That's why they cull?' Woolsey asked. 'They think it's because they don't want the peoples of Pegasus to become a threat to them, but that's just what you want them to think. You don't want people to become a threat to _you_.'

'The Lanteans sought to free themselves from their physical bodies to attain a higher level of existence equivalent to ours. We could not allow that to happen.'

The thought that it _had _already happened formed in Rodney's head before he could stop it, and Sheppard's face crumpled in anger, colour rushing to his cheeks.

'What do you mean it has already happened?'

Everyone in the room looked sheepish, so Rodney figured he wasn't the only one to give that little gem of information away.

'Tell me!' Sheppard demanded.

Rodney felt himself begin to sway as a sudden bout of dizziness hit. He caught himself against the rail, noticing the others there all seeking something to steady themselves against. His brain felt spongy, as if it were expanding and contracting in quick succession. It seemed the beings within Sheppard were impatient for information, and weren't prepared to wait for them to give it freely or by any conventional means. His brain was his most valuable asset, and McKay always found species that stamped around in their uninvited incredibly violating.

'They are all around the universe...spread across the galaxies!'

'Yes. Presumably you were so focussed on finding them still in human form, you couldn't locate them,' Woolsey said, and if Rodney wasn't mistaken, there was a slight edge of glee in his tone.

Sheppard continued to fume, face darkening with suppressed fury, his hands balled into even tighter fists at his side, and he looked for all the world as if he were about to let out a primal scream.

'So, you see, you are already too late,' Woolsey continued. 'What you feared the most has already happened. Hurting us will make no difference now, so if you promise to leave and take no further action, we will send you through the gate and back to your planet without further repercussions.'

Sheppard continued to look like a volcano verging on eruption, glaring up at them with seething contempt. An eerie aura glowed out around him, and Rodney suspected the energy beings within him were building up power.

'Something tells me they're not going to go for that!' he hissed, backing up a few paces.

'You cannot dictate to the Initium!' he heard Sheppard's voice yell. 'You are children of the Lanteans, and you will eventually make the same mistakes they did. We will prevent any others from rivalling our place in this galaxy. The Wraith will take control of this city, and this body will transport them to your home planet of Earth, where they will ensure no one is left to challenge us again.'

'What! We have no desire to ascend! I'm pretty attached to my body, thank you very much!' Rodney protested.

'You will change your minds eventually. All men aspire to be more than they are. It is in their nature...a flaw in our design.'

'Oh, so you admit you're not so perfect yourselves then?' McKay shot back.

With a final death glare, Sheppard announced. 'Enough talk. We have to prepare the city for the arrival of them Wraith.'

He turned away from them and squatted down beside Dr Smithson. As he held an outstretched hand over her chest, her body arched and she gasped in a sharp breath. Then, the ball of energy that had entered her earlier, rose out of her body and was absorbed back into Sheppard via his palm. He did the same to each of their fallen colleagues, getting the same physical response from their previously inert bodies.

'What is he doing?' Teyla breathed watching him with morbid fascination.

'Gathering more power,' Rodney said, barely forming the thought consciously. He was just answering on his instincts.

'He's gonna try to break for it,' Ronon rumbled, backing toward the door.

'And go where?' Rodney asked, as everyone began to follow the Satedan.

'He won't get far,' Lorne told them, running to join the security detail outside the room. 'We have him covered.'

'Don't underestimate him,' Jennifer called as she followed in their wake. 'He's been becoming more resistant to the different sedatives we've employed. It'll take a lot to bring him down now.'

They sped toward the isolation room door, Lorne activating his earpiece and barking orders to prepare his men for Sheppard's next move.

When they reached their destination, Rodney and Jennifer huddled in behind the massing troops, while Ronon forced his way forward to aim his weapon, which was thankfully set to stun.

Teyla hung back on the opposite side of the corridor, seeming to have taken it upon herself to protect Mr Woolsey if it became necessary. Woolsey himself looked pale and grim. None of them knew what to expect from these beings, their strength was apparently growing all the time, and they could be could be capable of just about anything by now.

Rodney swallowed down the lump of nerves in his throat and gave Jennifer an anxious smile, promising himself he would not scream like a girl in front of her, no matter how bad things got.

...oooooo...

Inside the isolation room, Sheppard was already fighting his own battle with the Initium. Though he knew they were ultimately more powerful than him, he made every step they forced his body to take around that room as difficult and draining as he could.

_Why are you doing this, John Sheppard? You are only making things worse for yourself when you know you have no hope of winning._

Beads of sweat budded on his forehead as he slowly planted one foot in front of the other and then came to a stop in front of the door.

_I will not stand idly by while you use me to destroy my people, _he told them, trying to will his arm not to rise and rest his hand on the control.

Thankfully, though he couldn't stop the motion, the door didn't open. In the dark corner of his mind they had relegated him to, Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief.

_This will not keep us long. We will override the controls with your help._

Sheppard tried everything in his power to pull his hand away, but it remained in place as if nailed there.

_They were telling the truth_, he said, trying a different tack. _They're really not any competition for you out here._

The Initium gave a collective snort of derision in his head, as if they didn't believe him.

_We don't want to ascend. We're happy as we are, _he added.

_Really? Then why is it your people insist on tampering with things they have no right to interfere with? Manipulating genetics, creating new life, deciding who is right and who is wrong, who should live and who should die? What gives them that right?_

_What gives _you_ the right_? he challenged, immediately regretting it when his internal temperature soared, making him feel like someone was trying to blowtorch their way out of him. His knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground, his hand at last away from the controls.

_We are Initium. We always have been, and always will be._

_Yeah, you mentioned that already_, he pointed out. The heat inside him intensified to a level that made him wonder if his insides might actually be melting.

_What do you think your insolence will gain you?_ the voice asked. _Do you think we will kill you and you will be free?_

He had to admit to himself that the thought had crossed his mind.

_Foolish human._

Inside him, the heat continued to build and he let out a scream as the intensity became unbearable.

_You have given us what information we need. We are ready to proceed._

Sheppard's body dragged itself back up from the floor with no effort from him at all. He felt like a puppet, but a puppet conscious of being manipulated against its will. Suddenly the agonising heat released itself in a burst of pure energy, and the door pulled back in an instant.

There, outside it, were dozens of armed marines, all aiming at him.

_Oh, crap!_

His eyes scanned everyone standing there, though he couldn't choose which direction to look in himself. They weren't carrying P-90s, and although he was kind of relieved to know he wasn't about to be ripped apart by rapid fire, he had to wonder what they hoped to do with what looked like tranquiliser weaponry.

'Sir, stay right where you are and raise your hands where we can see them,' Lorne ordered, lining him up in his sights.

For a few moments, Sheppard didn't move. He wondered if the Initium had decided they were outnumbered and would comply with the instruction. He should have known better than to imagine they would give up so easily.

His eyes shifted to Ronon, noting the red glow of his cylinder indicating his particle magnum was set to stun.

_You'd better be ready to use that again, _he thought, as he felt his body take a step forward.

Sure enough, a blast hit him square in the chest, making him rock as the energy fizzled away through his limbs and out of his extremities. But he was still standing...and still walking.

_Take us to the control room, _the Initium ordered.

As he took the next few steps, he felt the first sharp pricks of the tranquiliser darts fired by the marines. They caught him in the upper arms, and the Initium made him pull them out, but he knew their job was already done from the moment they had imbedded themselves into his flesh.

He continued on, hearing shots being fired, not only by the marines, but by Ronon, too. Each time one hit, he felt his thinking become a little more fuzzy, a little more detached.

_Keep going guys, _he mentally pleaded, as he trudged on, passing them all. They kept their distance, relying on their weapons to stop him.

He saw Rodney crouching behind the armed security detail, flinching as he heard another round of shots released. The man looked petrified, as did Jennifer beside him. It was hard to believe they were looking at him that way, with the kind of revulsion usually reserved for creatures like the Wraith. This was a waking nightmare; these aliens were turning him into a monster and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Sensing him weakening, the Initium forced Sheppard to move faster, sending him sprinting down the corridor with the marines still firing in his wake. Tranquilisers hit him in his thighs, his calves, his back, driving hard into his muscles, and his mind began to swim. But all the time he could hear the voices inside him ordering him on to the control room to help prepare for the Wraith. What they had in mind he couldn't tell, but it all depended on him getting them there, and with quite a way to go, and his legs starting to feel decidedly wobbly, he felt positive he wasn't going to make it.

He stumbled, going down on one knee, before quickly pushing up and running again. His movements were becoming more sluggish, and when an energy bolt from Ronon's gun hit him, it sapped his strength, knocking him down again and making it that bit harder to right himself.

Yet he rose again, his body a jumble of aches and pains, his brain failing as he could barely focus on the corridor stretching out ahead of him. At the end of it was a transporter; he couldn't see it any more, but he'd travelled this corridor often enough to be intimately familiar with its layout, as he was with most of the inhabited areas of the city. They needed to stop him before he reached it.

Obviously realising his intended course, Ronon launched himself at his back, flattening him. Sheppard rolled over and swung wildly, several times making firm contact with his good friend's jaw as he screamed in his mind for the Initium to stop making him do it. More tranquilisers made their target as the marines grouped around them, and what little fight Sheppard had still felt when Ronon landed on him swiftly ebbed away.

He looked up into his friend's face, seeing his anxiety and pain, and wished more than anything that he could tell him he'd done the right thing, but he couldn't. He could do nothing for himself any more.

Instead, the Initium wasted his last conscious moments on repeating their mantra.

'We are Initium. We have always been, and always will be. You cannot hope to stop us.'

Ronon looked down on him, a glisten moistening his eyes as he pinned him to the floor with one hand and levelled his gun with the other. It was hurting him to do this, Sheppard could see his inner turmoil, but the Satedan would do what was necessary. He had every faith in him.

_Pull the damn trigger, Ronon,_ he thought, hoping he could see something in his eyes that showed he gave him his blessing. The Satedan's bodyweight made it hard for him to breathe, even if he wasn't the one in control of his lungs at that point, so it was a relief when his consciousness was finally stolen by a blinding energy blast, halting the Initium's supposedly unstoppable progress. He took his friend's simultaneously furious yet wretched expression with him into the encroaching oblivion.

* * *

**A/N: Well, at least the crew of Atlantis now know what they're up against. But Sheppard is getting stronger all the time! Thanks for the reviews and favourites. There should hopefully be another chapter tomorrow...if I can get my edits done! :D**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 **

Rodney, Teyla, Jennifer and Major Lorne had all gathered in the conference room at Mr Woolsey's request, but the man himself hadn't joined them yet.

Beside Teyla, Rodney wittered endlessly about Woolsey's tardiness, claiming he had no grasp of the dire situation they were in. She wanted to tell him to shut up, but knew it was the way Rodney expressed his anxiety, so let him prattle on without complaint, tuning him out as her years of working with him had trained her to do.

At the head of the room, sitting to the right of Woolsey's currently empty chair, Rodney had set up a screen to feedback video footage from the Atlantis cells, where Sheppard's unconscious form currently resided, lying flat on his back, limbs sprawled where they had been dropped, and still dressed in his blood stained scrubs. No one had dared invest the time necessary to change them for fear he would begin to rouse from the sedatives before they managed to imprison him.

Ronon stood outside the thick bars, arms folded, watching him. And beyond him, a dozen armed marines lurked at the periphery of the room, still carrying their tranquiliser weapons. Ronon had refused to join the others when Woolsey had called the meeting they were about to begin. He had told Teyla talking wasn't his thing, and his skills would be better employed guarding the cell. Teyla knew Sheppard's condition weighed heavily on him, as it did on all of them. He had to wonder, just as she did, if they could have saved Sheppard from this torment had they not left him alone on P5G 598, although from what she had since seen of the Initium's power both on the planet and now on Atlantis, she doubted they could have prevented any of this from happening to him.

She sighed, sipping from her mug of coffee as she watched the Satedan unflinchingly watching John. It was only a matter of time now before the colonel woke again. Rodney had said he hoped the cell and the shield around it would hold both Sheppard and the energy beings within him. She wasn't so certain of that. If the Initium were as old and intelligent as they claimed to be, she feared that cell would prove little obstacle to them.

Woolsey's sudden entrance disturbed her from her thoughts, and she straightened up in her seat, waiting to hear what he had to say.

'Thank you for joining me. I appreciate you all have other things you feel you should be doing right now, but this problem is swiftly growing out of hand and we need to put out collective heads together and formulate possible solutions. Before we begin, Dr Keller, how are our patients?'

'They're all doing well,' Jennifer informed him. 'All tests show they are physically fit, and if the entities have fully left them as we believe they have now, we anticipate they should make a full recovery very soon.'

'That's good to hear,' he said with a tight smile. '_If _the entities have fully left them.'

'We have security details on all of them, ready to take them down if necessary,' Lorne advised him. 'I don't expect they'll be as difficult to tackle as Colonel Sheppard was. It looks like he might have a hell of a lot of those things inside him.'

'I think you might be right, but we really can't assume anything as far as these beings are concerned,' Woolsey warned him, and the major nodded his understanding. 'Right, I called you all here to update you on what I have discovered about the Initium. You'll recall I said I thought I had heard the name before?' he asked, looking toward Teyla and Rodney who had been present when the Initium had made themselves known. 'Well, I have gone through the notes I have been reading since arriving on Atlantis and have found the item I was referring to. As I'm sure you will all be aware, Dr Weir made some quite in-depth studies into the Ancient language and culture while she was commander here. It seems that way back in their earlier existence, the Ancients worshiped deities known as the Initium, the creative force in the galaxy. At first, that was the extent of their relationship with the Initium; the Ancients worshiped and the Initium nurtured their world in return. But, as the Ancients began to develop, I suspect they surpassed any expectation the Initium had of them. As we all know, the Ancients reached an amazing level of technological advancement, and, when they realised they could actually do some of the things the Initium had been doing for millennia, they began to think they might not be dealing with deities at all, declaring that belief system outdated.'

'That would support what the Initium themselves have told us,' Teyla surmised. 'As a parent, I find it hard to understand how they could be so angered by the successes of their creations, though. Surely they should be proud that something they made has come so far?'

'Well, I'm not sure their role was ever "parental",' Woolsey told her. 'From the attitude they display now, I think creating the human form was more about proving their own genius, and when their creations demonstrated they could be brilliant in their own right, they saw that as a threat.'

'So, just like the Ancients did with the Asurans; when their experiment went wrong, the Initium decided it had to go,' Rodney snorted. 'Well, like they said, mistakes tend to repeat themselves.'

'So because the Ancients stepped on their toes, we have to pay?' Jennifer asked. 'That doesn't seem fair.'

'No, well, I'm not sure _fair_ is a word they recognise,' Woolsey sighed.

Down in the cells, Ronon moved for the first time, turning briefly to glance up at the camera before returning his attention to Sheppard again.

'I take it Mr Dex refused to join us?' Woolsey asked, the movement catching h is eye.

'He didn't believe he had anything to add to the meeting,' Teyla explained. 'He feels he can be of more use in a more proactive role.'

Woolsey nodded, watching the Satedan for a moment. 'Perhaps he's right. He has proved very effective in controlling him so far. But, we can't keep relying on him so heavily. So, based on all the information we have thus far gathered, does anyone have any longer term suggestions for solving this problem?'

'Well, we're hoping the energy field around the cell will hold the Initium for the time being. The field repels anything that comes in contact with it, but, eventually, they could find an energy frequency to function at that might allow them to pass through, though they would have to leave Sheppard's body behind to do that.'

Woolsey took a deep breath. 'To be frank, that is my fear. At least while they are inside the colonel we know exactly where they are. If they feel trapped, they might well choose to leave him, and then we may not know where they are, or who will turn against the city next. There are a number of people in this city with the ATA gene they could choose from.'

'I should probably get down to the lab and get my team working on this,' McKay said, looking suddenly paler.

Teyla realised what Woolsey had said meant he was at risk of possession by these being himself, and after everything they had seen them put the colonel through, that had to be a terrifying thought. Many times she had wondered at the gift John possessed – his strong physical link to the Ancestors – but right now she was glad her own bloodline wasn't linked to theirs. The experience of harbouring the consciousness of the crystalline life form that had fed on their worst fears had been terrifying enough and had cost her a good friend and confidante when Kate had died. She had no desire to live through such an experience again.

'Just bear with us a few moments longer, Dr McKay. I would like to discuss ideas further before you begin your work. In the interim, while Dr McKay and his team are working on ways to remove or neutralise the Initium, what are our best options for containing the situation?'

'Well, so far immobilising Colonel Sheppard has proved the most effective method,' Jennifer pointed out. 'Of course, that's getting harder and harder as the Initium seem to be adapting to our tactics, but making it physically impossible for the colonel to carry out their plans has been successful so far.'

Woolsey nodded. 'I agree, but as you say, he seems to be building a tolerance to the sedatives we've been using, so we have to come up with alternatives.'

'If he's determined to fly the city to the Wraith, maybe we should seal the doors en route to the control chair,' Lorne suggested, the first tactical solution anyone had put forward. 'That would slow him down. Or maybe we should disconnect the chair from the systems, ensure he can't activate the engines even if he does get through to it.'

'THEM!' McKay snapped. 'Can we please remember it isn't Sheppard doing any of this?'

'Sorry, Doc,' Lorne said sincerely, looking uncomfortable that he had even suggested unwittingly that Sheppard was involved.

'Anyway,' McKay continued. 'Although I admit your plan would slow him down, what happens if the Wraith manage to locate us somehow? If we need to move the city quickly we can't do it.'

'But with the cloak up, they won't be able to –' Lorne began, but he was interrupted when Woolsey held up a hand to stop him.

'I see. Thank you, Dr Zelenka,' Woolsey replied to a message only he had received via his earpiece.

Teyla watched the colour drain from Woolsey, not for the first time today, knowing more bad news was coming their way. 'It seems Dr Zelenka has located a signal transmitting from this city on a Wraith frequency. It's a beacon...apparently the Wraith know exactly where we're hiding, so even with the cloak in place they will still able to locate us.'

McKay pushed his seat back and stood, his brain quickly running through the possibilities. 'Sheppard...he could have done it from the control chair while the Initium distracted us by getting him to fire the engines!'

'Don't you mean "they",' Lorne reminded him.

'This isn't the time, Major. We need to shut it down. Permission to –' he pointed toward the door, and Woolsey nodded his agreement. Rodney ran out, moving quicker than Teyla had seen him manage in a long time. Usually only the draw of is favourite meal in the mess hall could make him move with such speed.

'All right,' Woolsey said, clearing his throat. 'It seems that cutting off the control chair wouldn't be the best idea after all, considering this change in circumstances. Any other ideas?'

'Perhaps we could send him off-world...where he cannot do more harm to the city,' Teyla offered.

Woolsey looked at her with genuine surprise. 'Are you suggesting we abandon him?'

'No...I would be willing to go with him.'

Woolsey gazed back at her for a moment, obviously considering her suggestion, but in the end, he shook his head. 'No, no...I can't sanction that. You would be in terrible danger, and even if not, if anything happened to the city, you might be stranded.'

Realising he was right and she could not so casually leave her son behind, she said, 'Then perhaps we should ask for volunteers. Someone might be willing to keep him company.'

For a moment, all eyes drifted to the screen, where Ronon still stood sentinel-like in his duties outside the cell.

Woolsey remained grim-faced, running his tongue across dry lips before speaking. 'I'll take that under consideration, but we're not at that point yet, and hopefully we never will be.

Just then, Jennifer held up her hand, touching at her earpiece to signal she was receiving a message now. 'Okay, Marie. Thank you. I'll be right there.'

Teyla felt her heart surge, hoping it wasn't bad news from the infirmary.

'Apparently Carson and the others are beginning to wake up. I should go check on them,' Jennifer announced, rising from her seat.

'Perhaps we all should. Maybe they have some information we might be able to make use of,' Woolsey said, as everyone got to their feet to follow her.

In the infirmary, Carson was already sitting up against several pillows and being helped to take a drink of water. Dr Smithson was still a little groggy, and taking longer to rouse, perhaps due to her age, but like Carson, the two marines were reasonable alert and taking on liquids.

'Oh, Carson! Thank God!' Jennifer breathed, instantly testing his pulse.

'Stop fussing, lass. I'm fine,' he assured her, pulling his wrist free. 'Where's Colonel Sheppard?'

'Currently unconscious and detained in the cells,' Woolsey told him.

'Unconscious?'

'Tranquilisers,' Teyla explained. 'Though it took many of them to knock him out...and the additional help of Ronon's gun.'

Carson rubbed his temples, then shook his head. 'That was one of the weirdest experiences of my life. It felt like my brain was being turned inside out. I just couldn't find my way back to the surface.'

'But you're not feeling any after effects?' Woolsey checked, and Teyla couldn't help but notice the slight distance he was keeping between himself and Carson's bed.

'Other than a headache...no.' Carson's face dropped, and he looked around at them as they all had the same thought. Sheppard's condition had begun with headaches.

'Any voices?' Woolsey asked tentatively.

'Only the one telling me I was a bloody idiot for not getting out of that room fast enough,' he confessed, then added, 'but I think that's just my subconscious,' in case clarification was needed.

In the bed beside him, Dr Smithson groaned and pushed the nurse attending her away, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear her vision.

'Wh...what...Never mind, I remember,' she muttered, covering her eyes again.

'Are you alright, Dr Smithson?' Teyla enquired, approaching the bed.

'I'm not sure yet, ask me again in a week or two,' she grumbled, allowing her arm to fall back to the mattress as she looked up at the Athosian. 'Pass me some water, would you?'

Teyla helped her to drink from the straw in the glass the nursing staff had supplied, then set it back down as the doctor caught her breath. 'Why a week or two?' she asked.

'Well, it took some time for those "things" to take a full hold of Colonel Sheppard...I assume I have at least that long to wait before we know for sure I'm all clear.'

'Aye, that seems logical,' Carson nodded.

'Well since the energy beings that knocked you unconscious have now left your bodies, you should be okay,' Jennifer assured them, forcing on a smile.

'But even if they haven't fully left them, I take it for the time being at least we don't have to worry about either of them rushing off trying to fly the city or send out Wraith beacons?' Woolsey asked.

'Wraith beacons? Is there something you're not telling me?' Carson asked, eyes wide with worry.

Teyla laid her hand on his arm and gave him her best reassuring smile. 'There have been some...developments since you lost consciousness. I think it might be best of we update you.'

...oooooo...

Not sure which way up he was, Sheppard eventually realised he was staring up at the patterned ceiling of Atlantis, which mean he was horizontal...again. This time, he wore no restraints, and there was no comfortable bed beneath his back, just a cold, hard metal floor and the thick bars of a cell surrounding him, the best restraining device Atlantis had.

_Good work, guys,_ he thought, feeling himself sit up so the Initium could get a better look at their new surroundings.

_Trapped! _they hissed.

_Yeah, get used to it! _Sheppard mentally sneered at his tormentors. _Now you know how it feels._

Ronon pushed forward at the bars, his face shadowed by doubt. 'Sheppard?'

_Still here, buddy, _he thought, but of course, he couldn't tell him that.

Instead, his voice answered, 'You did not honestly believe you could get rid of us that easily, did you, Satedan?'

Ronon immediately hunched, his lip curling into a snarl. 'Maybe not, but we're doin' a pretty good job of keepin' you Initium in line since you're such "superior" beings.'

Sheppard let out a laugh inside his head, then suddenly felt his body push up and head for the bars. His hand reached out despite the fact he knew damn well it would hurt. The shock of the force shield surrounding that cell shot up his arm and jerked his whole body, leaving behind and annoying residual ache. He supposed that was a punishment for mocking them. They had to have known what would happen when he touched that.

'I wanna speak with Sheppard.'

Sheppard's eyes moved back to his friend. There were so many emotions swirling in his expression that he longed to be able to tell Ronon he was okay. But there was no way these power freaks were going to let him do that. He was worthless, after all.

'Why do you wish to speak with him? You have to know we will not allow him to tell you anything of use to you,' he heard himself say.

'I'm not interested in discussing tactics – I just wanna know he's okay.'

_I have hundreds of crazy aliens buzzing around in my body. I'd say I'm pretty much as far from okay as I can be,_ Sheppard mused, but he was touched by the sentiment all the same.

'Your compassion belies your exterior appearance...and your actions so far.'

_Jeez, I sound like a jerk when I talk like that,_ Sheppard decided. If he ever got his hands in these "things" he would kick their ethereal asses into touch just for making him sound like such a creaky old college professor.

'I haven't done anything that wasn't necessary. Sheppard would've wanted me to take him down,' Ronon assured them, lifting his chin high and proud.

'Are you so certain of that, Satedan? Maybe you _should_ ask him.'

Sheppard instantly felt like a vice had been loosened from around his brain, allowing him to form free thoughts. Were they really going to permit him to speak? He swayed, his body feeling suddenly heavy and unwieldy now he had to control it himself again. Once certain he wasn't about to keel over, he tested out his voice.

'Hey, big fella!'

Ronon frowned, blinking a few times before asking, 'Sheppard – s'that really you?'

Sheppard looked down at himself, flexing joints and stretching out his aching muscles. 'For the moment...yeah...I think so.'

Unsurprisingly, Ronon still didn't look convinced. The man was naturally cautious by nature, and rightly so. 'How're you holdin' up?' he grunted, making Sheppard huff out an involuntary laugh.

'To tell you the truth, I've been better,' he confessed. He held Ronon's gaze steadily, hoping something in the way he looked at him would convince his friend it was really him. But all he could see in Ronon's eyes was confusion and mistrust.

'You know you did the right think back there outside the isolation room, don't you?' Sheppard told him. 'You have to keep doing what you're doing; you can't let the –'

The Initium cut him short with a pain like a hot poker being forced through the centre of his brain. His knees gave up on him, slamming into the floor. _All right, I get the point!_

'Sheppard!'

He held up a hand as the pain subsided. 'I'm okay...I'm okay...just pissed 'em off, that's all.'

'We'll get those bastards outta you. You just have to keep fightin' 'em until McKay figures somethin' out.'

'You don't have to worry about that. I'm givin' 'em hell in here...not that it makes much difference.'

'It might be helpin'. You just gotta keep it up.'

Sheppard knew platitudes when he heard them, but when they were coming from Ronon, he knew he was in serious trouble. He got back to his feet, taking a few deep breaths to get through the now subsiding pain.

Despite the fact he knew they would punish him for his rebellion, he told Ronon, 'If these bastards get me outta this cell, you kill me next time. Understood?'

More pain instantly followed, bringing tears to his eyes and making his legs shake beneath him. Even as Ronon fiercely held his gaze, forcing himself to nod is reluctant agreement, a hundred Initium voices laughed inside Sheppard's skull. _You think we cannot bring you back? You delude yourself. We are all things. We are life and we are death. Only we will decide when you fight your last._

'They're not getting out of there. McKay thinks the force shield will hold them.'

This time Sheppard couldn't answer. The sensation of going into shut-down came upon him suddenly and with no warningas once again he was banished to the recesses of his own consciousness while the Initium took control._ I hope you're right, he thought, _unable to speak now as he felt the vice tightening on his mind.

_Time to act, John Sheppard,_ the voices told him, and he knew then that allowing him to speak to his friend had been nothing more than a plan to lull Ronon into trusting him.

'Ronon, buddy...I don't feel so good...' he heard himself say, still sounding like his old self. And it was true, he didn't, but he couldn't help thinking this was all just part of another scam. _Don't fall for it Ronon! _he begged from the sidelines. _They want you to open the cell!_

The Satedan made to grab at the bars, but stopped himself just before he felt the shock, letting his arms fall useless at his sides. 'What is it, Sheppard? What's wrong?'

'They don't want me any more...they say if I'm trapped in this cell I'm no use to...them...'

And as the final words left his mouth, he thought he felt his heart come to a stop as darkness closed in on him once more.

* * *

**A/N: Oh no! Will Ronon fall for their tricks? Thanks for all the support. I hope you are all still enjoying the story. More tomorrow...hopefully! :D**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 **

In the control room, Rodney sat back with a sigh of relief in the seat he had forced Amelia to vacate, drying his sweaty palm on his thighs. Radek looked similarly drained and elated where he sat, and the two men regarded each other with unspoken gratitude. Though they bickered endlessly, they actually shared a huge respect for one another, especially at times like this when the need to work together quickly was paramount.

Now they had shut down the beacon, with any luck the Wraith would lose interest and change course. But if Radek hadn't spotted the signal, cleverly encoded within normal systems, it might have been a very different story. Not that Amelia looked terribly impressed, he noticed now the crisis was over; she leaned against the wall, arms folded and lips pursed glaring as if wishing he would spontaneously combust. He figured she must have been taking lessons from Ronon to get that good at glaring; he pretty much had that skill down to perfection.

'Good work,' he told the Czech, who gave a single nod in acknowledgement. 'Now we just have to figure a way to get those bastards out of Sheppard and we're home and dry. Easy!'

Radek nodded again, rubbing his finger thoughtfully across his lower lip. 'I wonder if they draw strength from their sheer numbers...that could be why so many of them invaded Colonel Sheppard's body. Perhaps if we could draw them out and separate them, we could overpower them or trap them somehow.'

Rodney folded his arms, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. 'Hmmmm, now let me get this straight. You think we should try to lure the aliens out of Sheppard. Great idea! I assume you're offering to act as bait for that insane little scheme.'

'Well...no...of course I wasn't suggesting we use actual people...' the little man blustered.

'Then what exactly? A candy bar? Although...you may have a point about the strength in numbers theory...that would make sense.'

'So, not a completely insane idea?' Radek asked, waiting to be given at least some credit.

'What we need is an opportunity to study those little suckers,' McKay mused, ignoring him. 'If we could find out exactly what particles they're constructed of, we could try to generate something with a completely opposite particle construction and then use the attraction between the two opposing forces to drag them out of his body.'

'A magnet for energy beings? I suppose it could work,' Radek agreed, nodding thoughtfully. 'But how do you propose to study them? Isn't he locked in a cell right now because he has become highly dangerous?'

'Yes, but if we can keep him unconscious, I might be able to sneak in and stick on a few electrodes to take some readings.'

Radek didn't look too sure about that suggestion. 'Remember what happened to Dr Beckett and the others in the isolation room with him. Even if he is unconscious, the aliens may still be able to leave his body and attack you.'

That was true. But there had to be some way of scanning them to find out what exactly they were. 'Perhaps we can adjust the city's life sign scanners to decipher what they are.'

'I suppose, but since they have not picked up an alien presence on Atlantis yet, something tells me we're going to have to boost them quite considerably to do what you want. I'm not sure the ZPM has enough power to run the cloak and augment the systems to the level required.'

'No...no...you might be right,' Rodney conceded without argument. He really didn't want to do anything that might risk the integrity of the cloak with the Wraith still on course to Atlantis. 'I might just head down to the cells to see what's going on. Maybe I'll get struck by inspiration on the way.'

'I'll come with you.'

Not that Rodney didn't appreciate Radek's offer, but he felt he ought to give the man the option to change his mind. 'You know, Radek, being around the colonel is a pretty dangerous place to be right now. If you'd prefer to wait in the lab, I'd understand.'

Radek's eyebrows lifted high above his glasses, even when he prodded them up to sit on the bridge of his nose again. 'What is this? You think I'm some kind of coward?' he asked, his voice edged with hurt.

'No...no...of course not. But think about it. If those things were to get out, would it make sense to have the only two people smart enough to figure out this problem in the same room with them?'

'You're not giving enough credit to the rest or our team...' Radek muttered, but Rodney could see the man was pleased that he'd even suggested he was ahead of the others.

'Maybe you're right, but I'd rather not take that chance...oh, and it's _my_ team, remember?'

Radek rolled his eyes. 'Yes, Rodney. _Your_ team. I'll wait for your update in the lab, then.'

'Good idea.'

Rodney snatched up the laptop he'd been working on, closing it and shoving it under his arm as he headed to the nearest transporter. He'd recently received the news that Carson and the others who had been knocked unconscious in the isolation room were awake and lucid, so was feeling a little brighter and braver on his way to see Sheppard. Maybe Radek's theory about strength in numbers had been more correct than either of them had first imagined; maybe the Initium all needed to stick together to have the strength to force Sheppard to do these things against his will. If so, he just had to create a force strong enough to draw a great enough number of them away from the collective, and it might render them...impotent. It was a big leap to assume that, but it would explain why Sheppard had "reclaimed" the orbs that had rendered Carson and the others unconscious before making his break from the isolation room. And perhaps that was the reason they had kept Sheppard trapped inside the rock for so long – they'd needed to work out exactly how many of them it would take to influence his behaviour.

He decided it was a possibility worth sharing with Radek, and was about to contact him when a call came out over the open channel. 'Medical team to the cells. Colonel Sheppard's condition has deteriorated and he's currently showing no signs of life. Urgent medical assistance required.'

'Nonononono!' Rodney gasped, starting to sprint for the transporter to take him down to that level.

He converged with numerous other crewmembers and marines all heading for those cells. He burst through the door to hear Woolsey giving the order not to open the cell. Though he wanted to scream at the man to change his mind, he knew it was the right call. He pushed through everyone who had gathered there, a morose and in his opinion totally redundant gallery of voyeurs, and made his way up to bars. Sheppard lay on the floor, his face already paling.

Ronon stared through the bars, his face crumpled with fury. 'They let me talk to him, then killed him. It's a lesson to us...proof of how powerful they are.'

'You spoke to him?'

'Yeah. They wouldn't let him say much...and then he said they'd decided to leave him.'

Rodney gaped up at his friend. 'Did you see that happen?'

The Satedan shook his head. 'Didn't see them do anythin'. He just collapsed and stopped breathin'.'

Jennifer arrived on the scene with a team and a crash cart, ready to administer treatment. 'Mr Woolsey, I need to get in there,' she advised him.

'I'm not willing to allow that yet,' Woolsey told her, standing firm on his decision.

'If I don't resuscitate him now, we'll be looking at brain damage even if I do manage to get him back,' Jennifer warned him, her voice wavering a little, but her words firm.

For a moment, her eyes flicked toward McKay, and he a glimpse of panic and regret there. She knew how much Sheppard meant to his team...how much it would hurt them to lose him...and he got the feeling she was looking for him to add his weight to the argument. But he couldn't. Atlantis was at stake. He'd made his share of reckless and emotionally driven decisions over the years; he couldn't...wouldn't ask Woolsey to allow the woman he loved in to treat his friend and run the risk of losing them both.

'It could be a trick,' he said. 'I think they still need Sheppard. I think it takes them time to work out how to control people...they can't just jump into someone else and get the job done.'

'Are you sure of that?' Woolsey asked, clearly intrigued by the theory.

'Well, as certain as I can be of a realisation I made only a few minutes ago,' he confessed, suddenly sheepish. 'But let's face it, they could have jumped ship any number of times over the past few weeks if it was possible. I'm thinking they need to stay in Sheppard because they've worked out exactly how much it takes to control him. If they jump bodies now, they would have to start all over again, and they don't have time for that.'

'His time is running out, Richard. It's now or never,' Jennifer interrupted, looking vexed that Rodney had hijacked the conversation without helping her.

Woolsey looked down at Sheppard through the bars, then set his jaw. 'No...we wait.'

'He doesn't have time,' she insisted. 'He's coming up on the limit the brain can survive without oxygen before suffering permanent damage. You wait, we lose him.'

'And if you go in there, we might lose you and everyone else on the station. I'm not willing to take that chance.'

Rodney suddenly had an idea, and grabbed hold of Ronon's arm, tugging him aside and asking Woolsey and Jennifer to follow him.

'I can't believe I'm going to suggest this,' he whispered, 'but what if we lower the force shield around the cell for just a second and let Ronon shoot him? Could the shock of that energy weapon restart his heart?'

Jennifer raised her eyebrows, then nodded. 'Well, it's not exactly conventional, but in the absence of any other options, it might work.'

He turned to Richard, who still looked worried. 'We're talking a couple of seconds at the most...nothing more...and Sheppard would still be trapped in there.'

Taking a deep breath, Woolsey gave a sharp nod. 'Do it.'

Rodney sprinted to the controls, while Ronon prepared to fire on his friend once again.

Without even daring to speak, Rodney mouthed the countdown to the Satedan, and on zero, shut down the field.

He wasn't really sure what happened next for several long, panic-filled seconds, wherein the room erupted in sparks that sent personnel ducking for cover in all directions. Rodney threw himself behind a pillar, shielding his head from the showers of hot plasma as best he could.

Around him, he heard Lorne barking orders, telling his men to find cover and take aim, but the sudden loss of lights made that increasingly difficult, and the continuing explosions from the various power circuits around the room made it hard to stay still and focused.

Rodney tried to spot Jennifer, Ronon and Teyla in the chaos, but since now the only illumination was momentary flashes of blue-white light, it was impossible to be sure who was who. But one thing he was pretty sure of was that something within the cell was stirring, and all he could do was press himself harder to the wall as orbs of energy began to fly around the room, hitting anyone and everyone not quick enough to get out of their paths.

...oooooo...

Sheppard became conscious of where he was just as his hand pulled back into the cell, and the bars blocking the door drew back. Apparently, he'd deactivated the controls, though he had no memory of it or of how the force shield around the cell had been deactivated to allow it.

Around him, everywhere was dark, which had to be a bad sign. He tried to think the lights on, but the thought simply wouldn't form clearly, making the lighting cells sputter and die around him.

He stepped out into the surrounding room, eyes scanning for things the Initium considered threatening. Bodies lay strewn about the place, and he wanted to help them...to at least check if they were still alive...but he couldn't do a thing, compelled as he was to do the Initium's bidding.

A blast of energy hit him in the back, and he instantly knew that meant Ronon was still conscious. But he couldn't stay and check who else was there because his body started running now with that single thought that kept filling his mind. He had to get to the control room.

His lungs ached as he began his sprint, as if he had been holding his breath. But as he sped away from the cells his breathing became easier, and he felt as if his body was suddenly functioning at maximum efficiency. That had to be the Initium's work. They needed him to move fast, so they were making his body perform at optimum levels. He felt strong, frighteningly so. He felt as if nothing could slow him down.

Behind him, he heard more shouting, and another bolt of energy struck his back. He faltered for just a second, then picked up the pace, just as sure footed as he had been before. His body had apparently adapted to the energy Ronon's weapon deployed. They needed to hit him with more.

He pounded on, acutely aware of the footfalls racing behind him. Ronon was a fast runner, the fastest in the city. He had little doubt his friend would make up the ground between them eventually, no matter how hard the Initium drove him. Ronon would stop him again.

With his attention on his pursuer he didn't expect the three darts that hit him in the chest. He ripped them out the moment the Initium realised what they were, feeling a worrying heat building inside him. His eyes sought out the marines responsible for firing on him, spotting a team of four in the corridor ahead of him, sheltering in recessed doorways. He knew the heat was a bad sign, and not just for him. This was going to hurt...all of them.

It mounted rapidly, and just when it became unbearable, he felt it release, watching five energy balls shoot out of him, burning their way out of his chest, four heading forward and one heading back. _Ronon!_

The Initium turned him to view the results of their work, but the Satedan fired on the approaching orb, blasting into a million tiny particles that faded as they fell toward the floor.

_He killed it!_

_Do not be so certain of that, _a voice in his head told him as the other orbs homed in on the marines, just like deployed drones seeking out a Wraith ship. A red ball of energy whistled past Sheppard's left ear, taking one of them out, but the other three found their targets, dropping the marines where they stood before whizzing back toward him at speed and reintegrating with the Initium within him. He felt their sting, but was too confused to focus on the pain. Why hadn't they taken out the final marine? Were they afraid of Ronon's weapon? His internalised questions met with a hiss of derision, but he suspected he might be right.

'Ronon, remember what Dr Keller said. We need to immobilise him!' he heard Lorne shout behind him, the major on his tail now, too.

Sheppard drew level with the marine who was now aiming his tranquiliser weapon at him again, but a quick jab with his right broke the man's nose, leaving him doubled over and clutching his bloodied face in shock.

One more dart hit him in the back of the thigh, but this time the Initium did not try to strike back, just forced him to pull it out and keep on going. Maybe it was because they were vulnerable to Ronon's weapon when in smaller numbers or outside of the insulating shell of his body, or maybe it was the fact he was now only a few strides away from a transporter.

_C'mon, buddy! You gotta take me down before I get to that thing!_

Behind him, Ronon gave a fierce roar as he pushed himself harder, making up ground with every long stride. Sheppard could hear him getting closer, hear the shortness of his angry breaths, could almost feel the man bearing down on him...then he stopped, turned, and swung as hard as he could.

His hand exploded in a mass of pain as in connected with the left side of Ronon's jaw, dropping him. It felt like he'd broken every bone in his knuckles, and inwardly he screamed out, feeling the shock of the contact building, but the Initium didn't let him vocalise it. Lorne was still on his way, but wasn't close enough to prevent his escape, even when he hit him with another tranquilising dart.

Kicking the stunned Satedan in the side of the head, he darted for the transporter and on toward the control room.

As he stumbled out onto the control level corridor, he was immediately confronted with more armed troops, this time not carrying tranquilisers. Evidently, no one had imagined he would get this far...unless the policy was that if he did they should shoot to kill. He wouldn't blame them if that was the decision they'd come to. Right now, he was sure he would kill himself if he could to stop the crazy power freaks in his head.

The marine closest to him had a moment of classic shock when he saw Sheppard, but soon composed himself enough to shout an instruction that the colonel should halt or they would fire. The Initium forced him on, unconcerned by his impending suffering. But why should they care? They couldn't feel pain because they had no actual physical bodies. Yet more worrying than the array of bullets about to begin imbedding themselves in his body was the fact that only marines armed with standard issue weaponry stood between him and the control room...and he wasn't sure they would stop him.

He kept running and the marine shouted one more warning before opening fire. The bullets ripped into his body, and then he was screaming inside again. He knew the pain wouldn't last for long because the Initium needed him to keep going. They would heal him as quickly as they could, which was little comfort as each bullet hit.

Again, he felt a burning heat inside him, not from the injuries, but something deep within him...an energy build-up from the Initium. He wanted to shout a warning, but they retained their constrictive grip on his brain, rendering any attempt at free movement or speech utterly useless.

The heat crested as more bullets tore into him, hitting him in the thigh muscles and abdomen, then he felt his whole body pulse, releasing more orbs to seek out his assailants and put an end to the attack. _Not an attack...a defence, _he corrected himself, determined not to start thinking that way about his own people. They were doing exactly what they were meant to do – protecting Atlantis and everyone within the city from danger. He'd never imagined he would become potentially the most unstoppable danger they'd ever faced.

The orbs cut through the air at unfathomable speeds, passing through people and architecture alike. Just as it had been down in the cells, the light began to fade, sparks illuminating his way as one by one, marines began to fall. Inside, he screamed for the Initium to stop, unsure whether they were killing or just incapacitating his men...good men. But they just ordered him to be silent and keep moving forward. His choice of language in return was enough to shock even him. He had never felt so futile in his life, and that was saying something.

A bolt of energy from somewhere back down the corridor throbbed past him and split an orb into thousands of tiny atoms. As if sensing danger, they all began to return to him, pounding back into his body, but not before Ronon took out another two. Sheppard doubted losing five would be enough to make a huge difference; there were hundreds of the bastards inside him pulling the strings.

Clearly, the Initium knew Ronon was the biggest threat to their plan, as suddenly Sheppard felt himself running much faster. But his injuries, no matter how quickly they battled to heal them, were slowing him down, and the colonel wasn't at all surprised when he felt the thud of Ronon's stunner blast hit his back, swiftly followed by the man himself, his momentum sending the two of them sprawling in a tangle of arms and legs.

Sheppard punched him hard, seeing the brief moment of pain flash over his friend's face before he was able to shut the sensation down. The Satedan could take more physical punishment than anyone Sheppard had ever known, and this was one time he was glad to be doing battle with him. If anyone stood a chance of stopping him getting to the control room, it was Ronon.

The Satedan fired on him again from close range, but Sheppard just struck out again, splitting the skin on Ronon's cheekbone, beneath his left eye.

'C'mon, Sheppard. You've gotta help us fight this,' Ronon almost pleaded, trying to pin his arms.

_I'm doing my best! _Sheppard thought in response, saddened by the fact his best fell way short of the mark. His friends needed him to pull some kind of miracle here, and he just wasn't able to do it.

'Get out of our way, Satedan!' he heard himself growl, right before levering Ronon's bulk off him with his legs and scrambling onto his knees.

A tranquiliser hit him in the ribs, and he spied Lorne and a couple of other marines now approaching, too. Their sedatives still weren't working as well as they had last time, and were having no effect on him so far. His body had adapted to somehow process them quickly, courtesy of the Initium, and he suspected it was going to take a lot more darts than they could fire to take him down before he made it to the control room, now only one short corridor away as he half crawled, half ran around the corner just ahead of them.

'Incapacitate him. Do whatever it takes,' he heard Lorne yell.

The sound of bullets clicking on the floor as his recovering tissues pushed them out was hugely disturbing, but not as much as the fact the control room door was now only yards away.

More marines barred his way, firing on Lorne's frantically screamed order. Lorne never lost his cool...this was bad...this was so bad.

Bulleted ripped into him again, their blows like punches, knocking the wind out of him and slowing his progress momentarily. That gave Ronon and the marines behind him time to catch up. Risking the bullets himself, Ronon tackled him again, while the marines on his heels fired all the tranquilisers they had left into him. He finally felt a little bleary now, and he knew a few more shots would probably do it...but they were out of darts._ Shoot me, Ronon...it might just work now!_

'Hold him down!' Ronon grunted, letting Lorne and his men take over pinning him down.

Then, he lifted his boot and brought it down on Sheppard's left shin with a sickening crack. The colonel felt the bone go, and whether it was the suppressive effects of the sedatives or the loss of five of the Initium that allowed him to do it he didn't know, but he screamed harder and louder than he thought was even possible for him. Squinting up through tear-filled eyes, he saw the Satedan's anguish, fingers knitted behind his head and face turned away from him as he let out the longest string of expletives Sheppard had ever heard his friend utter. But he knew Ronon hadn't finished yet; if he still had one good leg, he was still a threat. And inside, the heat began to grow...

With an unearthly howl of self-hatred, Ronon turned and repeated the action on Sheppard's right shin, just as the orbs broke free from him, taking out everyone in the vicinity, including Lorne and Ronon.

_No! _

The shockwave of all the orbs racing back to him at once briefly distracted him from his broken limbs, but only briefly. Yet, with both his legs now broken, and his body still repairing from the bullets the marines had fired on him and the impacts of the orbs, the Initium made him complete his journey.

Using arms pitted with ammunition, he dragged his useless lower limbs along behind him, travelling the last few feet through the door and into the control room, and then on toward the now vacated control systems. He was vaguely aware of a few civilian personnel cowering and whimpering behind various instruments and pieces of furniture, but they didn't concern him. He was about to complete his mission.

Hauling himself up to his knees, grinding out more agonised cries as he did so, he laid his hand on the panels in front of it and thought, _Destroy the cloak._

That single thought set in motion a chain reaction of mini explosions, spreading from one panel to another, and he watched in horror through the windows as the cloak dropped, leaving them completely exposed to whoever might come their way.

At that moment, a red ball of energy enveloped him, knocking his grip free of the chair he was clinging to and sending him to the floor. He rolled onto his back in time to see Amelia looming over him, holding Ronon's gun. She had to have snuck out and grabbed it while he was sabotaging the systems.

_Good girl!_ he thought, as she levelled the gun at him again, apologising before letting free another burst of energy into his battered body.

And that time it was enough to keep him down.

* * *

**A/N: It's the final week for this story, and I'm stil frantically writing the last chapter! Thank you for all the support. It helps to keep me working. :D**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 **

Ronon came to his senses just as a medic was pressing her fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. He batted the young nurse's hand away and climbed back to his feet, despite her protests that he should stay right where he was until she'd had time to check him over. One glare and she soon backed off and let him go.

He only now noticed that Amelia was right behind her, his gun clutched tightly in her right hand as if her life depended on not losing her grip on it. He took hold of the barrel, and as a little of the steel left her expression, he gently eased it from her grip.

'I shot him...twice. I thought he was going to kill us all.'

'It's okay. You did good.' He knew a smile would be worth a lot to her right now, but he just couldn't find it in himself, his stomach lurching at the memory of what he'd been forced to do to Sheppard before the Initium had struck back.

She wrapped her arms around herself, gazing up at him. Her hair was dishevelled, as if she'd had to throw herself clear of the Initium as they'd launched, and she reached up to tuck a stray tendril behind her ear before hugging her waist again. 'I was scared I'd lost you there,' she said quietly, her eyes brimming with tears she seemed determined not to shed.

'It'll take more than that to keep me down,' he assured her. He wished he had more time to check she was okay, but he needed to find Sheppard...to see what damage he'd done while he'd been out. He stroked her cheek and walked past her, relieved she seemed relatively unharmed from what he could see, other than being as shaken as the rest of them.

Heading for the control room, he found the place in chaos. He was no technical expert like McKay, but he could tell fried circuitry when he saw it, and he saw a hell of a lot of it all around the place as soon as he stepped across the threshold. The Initium had trashed the room, and they'd used his best friend to do it. Atlantis was the place Sheppard felt most comfortable...the place he now considered home. Turning him against the city was like turning him against his blood kin. That thought made Ronon madder than anything they'd done to the city itself.

Over to his right, he saw a group of marines, guns all aimed at one spot on the floor, and figured that was where Sheppard had fallen. In amongst them, crouching down and working on the colonel, were three members of the medical team, Marie taking charge and shouting instructions to the other two in the absence of anyone more senior. The sound of Sheppard's voice groaning surprised him; he'd expected him to be out for a while after all the damage and sedatives, but apparently he was already trying to rouse.

He slowly edged forward, lifting his own gun, ready for trouble. His jaw ached from the punches Sheppard had delivered, and his cheekbone stung, but those things were the least of anyone's worries right now. Amelia had followed him in and now stood at his shoulder, a soothing presence even if there wasn't much either of them could say of comfort.

'He took down the cloak before I could stop him. We can't get it up again. In fact, he's taken down most of the primary systems...including the 'gate shield.'

He nodded to acknowledge what she'd said, but there wasn't anything he could do to help with that kind of stuff. So he stayed there, watching over Sheppard in case he fully woke again. He set his weapon to kill; if he had to, he would use it, but now he had no idea whether even that would be enough.

Behind him, Radek stumbled in, gasping as he took in the carnage and then letting go a torrent of words he couldn't understand. He presumed that was his native language; he always resorted to it when stressed, Ronon had noticed. Mostly when McKay was hounding him.

Amelia told him she needed to go and speak to the scientist, then led Radek over to the main control panels where they both stood discussing the problems and looking perplexed. Soon after, Ronon heard the unmistakable sound of Rodney arriving. His ranting began the moment he reached the doorway, and Ronon would have willingly punched him before he'd taken more than a few steps if he hadn't believed they needed him.

'Oh my God! Look at this place! What the hell did they make him do now?' he bleated, stepping over the barely noticed recovering marines as he stumbled toward the frazzled machinery.

'We've lost the cloak,' Zelenka called over to him, momentarily looking up from his work.

'What? And are the Wraith still on the way?'

'We can't know for sure. The long range scanners are down...in fact, all scanners in the city are down.'

'Great! Because things weren't bad enough already,' McKay snorted, shouldering people out of his way as he hurried to join Radek and Amelia.

The sensation of a hand gently resting on his back told Ronon that Teyla had now arrived on the scene. He looked down at her and she gave him a sad smile, looking over to where Sheppard was still being closely guarded. 'It seems the Initium continue to get stronger. I worry about what measures will be necessary to keep the city safe.'

'I tried everything I could to stop him – even broke his legs so he couldn't walk – but he just kept going,' Ronon told her, trying not to feel ashamed as he caught sight of the moment of shock flitting across her expression. She soon masked it, understanding the necessity of what he'd been forced to do.

'That must have been hard for you,' she breathed, slipping her small hand into his. 'I'm sure John was glad you were willing to such lengths.'

'But it wasn't enough. He still took down the cloak. Now the Wraith can just fly straight in here.'

'That is not your fault.' Teyla planted herself in front of him, her eyes blazing with conviction. 'These Initium are an advanced race, far beyond our capabilities. But their supposed superiority hasn't afforded them any sense of proportion or compassion. They have dwelled on their obsession with position in this galaxy for so long I believe they may have lost their sanity.'

'Yeah, they may have.'

Woolsey strode into the room now, faltering for a moment when he saw what was going on around him, then instantly seeking out Major Lorne for an update. That figured, the Satedan supposed. Woolsey knew he wasn't big on talking, so Lorne was more likely to give him the level of detail he seemed to thrive on.

Ronon stepped past Teyla now to approach the spot where Sheppard still lay. At some point Jennifer had joined the medical staff, and was now administering medication to keep the colonel out while they worked.

'Make sure you give him plenty,' Ronon rumbled, towering over them. 'He's getting stronger all the time.'

'We'll do our best,' she told him. 'But it's hard to know how much it will take before the levels become dangerous for him.'

'I'm not sure the Initium would let anything happen to him anyway.' McKay had wandered over to check on Sheppard now, so of course couldn't resist throwing his opinions into the arena.

'Don't you have other things you should be doing, Rodney?' Jennifer asked, clearly annoyed by his interference in what she considered her area of expertise.

'Not really. I've just set a preliminary diagnostic in motion. Radek's keeping an eye on things. So, as I was saying, I'm pretty sure the Initium need Sheppard. Let's face it, they could have jumped to someone else with the gene by now if it was that simple, making it far easier to get to the control room and the chair than it is now. We know Carson can fly the city, possibly Lorne and a dozen or so other people, too. But they're sticking with Sheppard. And despite the fact he's the best pilot we have, I refuse to believe they wouldn't jump to someone else if they could now we know who and what they are.'

Teyla nodded. 'That does make sense. They are healing his body to keep him alive, so it is unlikely they will allow you to kill him with your drugs.'

'I'm not sure that's sound enough theory for me to go haphazardly pumping him full of morphine,' Jennifer told them.

In front of her, Sheppard's head rolled to the side, and he groaned, clearly still feeling the pain of his injuries. One of the marines stamped his foot down in the middle of his chest to hold him, the added pressure making him squirm all the more. Jennifer sighed, pushing her hair back off her face. 'Okay, let's give him another 20 mgs.'

As Marie administered the medication, Jennifer lifted his shirt to examine his torso beneath his bloodstained scrubs. Ronon watched in sickened fascination as a bullet that had lodged in the muscles of his abdomen pushed its way back to the surface and fell out, the skin sealing and mending in its wake. Though the colonel's abdomen remained streaked with blood, the flesh itself was whole again.

'That is so _weird_,' Rodney squeaked, turning slightly green as he covered his mouth.

'Weird but fortunate,' Jennifer told him. 'Normally he'd be undergoing highly invasive surgery right now, but it looks like –'

A foul crunching sound set Sheppard writhing in his stupor again, forcing Jennifer to reluctantly give the order to administer even more morphine. She clearly wasn't happy but knew they had no choice. A couple of the marines winced and wavered as if they might be about to pass out, but locked their knees and held fast in their positions

'What the hell was that?' Rodney asked, looking even sicker than he had already.

'His legs,' Ronon grunted. 'I broke 'em.'

'You wh –? Oh, God! That is so disgusting.'

More cracks and crunches followed as the Initium instigated repairs, causing Sheppard to arch his back and groan still more despite the meds in his system. Ronon added his foot to the weight on his chest to press him back down, and the colonel whimpered but gave up the struggle without ever opening his eyes.

'I think I need to be over there now,' Rodney said, thumbing back over his shoulder and heading toward Zelenka and Amelia.

A soft Scottish accent interrupted the moment, as Carson, still dressed in his scrubs, arrived on the scene to help out. 'Where do you need me, Jennifer?'

'Carson! What are you doing here?' she demanded, clearly unimpressed that he'd left the infirmary without her say-so.

'I told you earlier, I feel just fine now. I refuse to sit with my feet up when I'm needed here.' He squatted down beside the semi conscious colonel. 'How's he doing?'

'He's pretty knocked about, but his body is healing itself, so I don't think he's in any danger.'

'Good.' Carson gestured over his shoulder for two marines to join them. They were carrying a substantial set of manacles and several feet of heavy chain. 'Then you won't mind if I ask these gentlemen to secure him. Excuse us.'

Jennifer's jaw dropped, but she stood back and let them all move into position to wrap the chains around him and cuff his wrists behind his back.

'I thought we might need to restrain him so we collected them on the way. They're the heaviest restraints we have, so I'm told. I have no idea how long those things will hold him, but it has to be better than nothing,' Carson said.

Ronon wasn't so sure. If the Atlantis city defences couldn't hold Sheppard in a room, he doubted a length of chain could. Still, if it made people feel just a little safer, he saw no benefit in voicing that concern.

'I think we should set up an IV morphine feed. He needs constant sedation to keep him under –' The sound of his bones aligning stopped Carson in mid-sentence, and he looked toward Sheppard's legs from where the sound had issued. 'Good lord. Is that what I think it is?'

'His legs were broken in the struggle to stop his progress,' Teyla explained, something Ronon was grateful for because right now even thinking about what he had done to Sheppard was making him too sick to speak.

'Well, it doesn't sound like they're going to stay that way for long,' Carson replied, grimacing. 'I suggest we find some very remote area of the city to hold him until we can work out what to do for the best.'

Overhearing him, Woolsey walked over their way now. 'I agree. I'll ask major Lorne to oversee that. The rest of you, we need to head back to the conference room for a crisis meeting.'

'If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stay with Sheppard,' Ronon told him.

Seeming to understand his preference, Woolsey nodded. 'Very well, Mr Dex. I'm certain Major Lorne will be glad of your help. I only hope it isn't needed.' He stopped and looked around, spotting the person he was seeking out. 'Dr McKay, could you join us please?'

McKay's head snapped up, and his face coloured up with annoyance. 'Kind of busy here. You may not have noticed, but we've lost the cloak and the Wraith are on the way.'

If Woolsey was pissed at him he didn't show it, simply telling the scientist, 'Then I suggest you delegate the repairs to one of your more than competent colleagues since I require your expertise elsewhere.'

The request was couched so politely yet firmly that McKay appeared to have no come back to it. With an exaggerated sigh, he stomped across the room and followed Woolsey, Teyla, Carson and Jennifer from the room, grumbling something about it not being his fault if they all ended up getting sucked dry by the Wraith.

'You ready to move out?' Lorne asked Ronon, loading up his tranquiliser gun ready for the journey. 'Woolsey wants us to get him as far away from the control tower as possible, and I think I know just the right spot.'

Two members of the medical team wheeled a gurney in beside Sheppard, and four of them then combined their efforts to lift him carefully onto it without dislodging the essential IV line.

Once he was on it, Ronon gave Lorne a nod to signal he was ready, and the major led the way, his marines surrounding the gurney while Ronon followed on behind, his gun levelled at Sheppard for the entire journey.

...oooooo...

Teyla took up a seat next to the one at the head of the table, trying to calm herself. She knew that, if all other options failed, Mr Woolsey would give the order for Atlantis to be evacuated before the Initium could deliver them into the hands of the Wraith, but with Torren still in the city, and John being so hideously manipulated by their alien antagonists, she simply could not find the inner peace she always drew her strength from. Every time she allowed her thoughts to drift to the sight of Sheppard on the control room floor, surrounded by men he would once have considered friends and comrades all pointing guns his way, she felt a lurch of panic within her. And the memory of the sounds of his broken body mending was something she knew she would never forget, though she dearly wanted to. It had been like something out of one of those horror movies John was so fond of. In fact, his numerous deaths and re-animations left her fearful for what condition the Initium would leave him in were they ever to vacate his body, although it seemed unlikely they planned to do that any time soon.

'Thank you for joining me once again, ladies and gentlemen,' Woolsey began, greeting them as they gathered around the conference table one more time. 'As I'm sure you all appreciate, the severity of our situation has escalated over the past hour. There now appears little we can do to restrain Colonel Sheppard in his current condition. The Initium clearly pose a serious threat to this city and Earth, and we need to remove them, any way possible. Consider this an open forum. Feel free to express any ideas you have, no matter how insane they may seem. Right now, I doubt they will be any crazier than the dilemma we find ourselves facing.'

'Well, Zelenka and I were bouncing an idea around earlier. You know about classical electricodynamics, right?' Rodney ventured.

Woolsey's eyebrows twitched up as he planted his elbows on the table and peered at him over knitted fingers. 'I'm a little fuzzy on the specifics of that theory, Dr McKay. Perhaps you could enlighten us.'

Rodney sighed as if the request was the height of irritation for him, then proceeded to launch into an explanation. 'Classical electrodynamics is the study of the way in which electrically charged objects or substances interact with one another. The law of charges states that opposite charges attract and like charges repel. The reason for this is that lines of force can never cross each other. Positively charged matter has outward going lines of force, whereas the lines of force in negatively charged matter move inward. So, the outward-going lines of force of a positively charged object combine with the inward-going lines of force of a negatively charged object, locking them together. This combining produces an attraction between the two objects. But if the two objects with like charges come close to each other, the lines of force repel.'

Teyla understood the concept as Rodney had explained it, but wondered how it applied to their situation. Thankfully, she soon realised she wasn't the only person sitting at that table struggling to keep up with him.

'What does any of that have to do with the Initium?' Jennifer prompted, her brisk question insinuating that he was wasting their time without actually saying the words.

'Well, we're hoping that the Initium, being energy, will bear a charge...most likely positive, but we need to study them to find out. Once we know what kind of a charge they're producing, we might be able to produce and opposing charge strong enough to pull them out of Sheppard.'

'So...you want to make an "energy being magnet"?' Jennifer clarified.

'Well, if you want to oversimplify it to that extent...yes.'

Teyla couldn't help but be thankful she had, because it made far more sense than most of the techno babble Rodney came out with, as John liked to call it. 'Would forcibly drawing them out that way harm Colonel Sheppard?' she asked.

'Are you kidding? He's just been shot about a hundred times and had both of his legs broken. I don't think it can get much worse than that.'

'But you don't know,' Woolsey stated.

'Well...no. Strangely, this isn't something I've ever tried before.'

'And you would need to study them to ascertain their molecular structure and charge?'

'Yes...which isn't going to be easy...and so may take some time.'

'How long?' Carson asked him, joining in now.

Rodney rolled his eyes melodramatically, then glared at the Scotsman. 'I thought with Sheppard currently out of the picture I might actually escape the demand for indefinable timeframes. I guess I was fooling myself.'

'It _is _a relevant question, Dr McKay,' Woolsey pointed out, leaning forward with interest. 'Considering the Initium's growing strength and the fact the Wraith could be on our doorstep within two days, an assurance that it won't take that long would at least be some comfort.'

Rodney huffed again. It was clear from the dark circles under his eyes and his rumpled exterior that he was exhausted and beginning to feel the pressure, which meant his manners, which were meagre at best, were now at their lowest ebb. 'Well, I'm sorry but my name isn't Nostradamus, so I can't see into the future and give you that guarantee.'

'Then I suggest we come up with another idea...one with a better chance of success,' Woolsey stated, looking around the table at them all again. There was a slight glaze of desperation to his eyes, one he tried to hide, but was apparent if you knew how to recognise it. Teyla had seen that look many times in the eyes of people who knew the Wraith were bearing down on them.

Reluctantly, she spoke up. 'Perhaps this is time to consider my earlier suggestion,' she reminded him, though the idea of pushing John away from them in his hour of need left her with a heavy sense of dread and guilt. 'Sending him off-world until the threat has been neutralised would seem our best option. Once we have dealt with the imminent Wraith threat, then we can return all our efforts to finding a way to help the colonel.'

As was his style when other people had better ideas than him, Rodney jumped in and interrupted her. 'But if we do that, the Initium won't have any need for Sheppard any more and might just kill him. Worse still, they might jump to someone else with the ATA gene in desperation to keep their plan alive. Then we won't know who we can trust!'

'I thought you said they needed Colonel Sheppard because it takes a while for them to take hold,' Jennifer reminded him.

'Well, that's my current theory, but I'm not sure I want to test it,' he confessed, looking sheepish. 'Besides, if he's no use to them, they may just decided it's their only option.'

'Well, I'm afraid if the risk of them killing Colonel Sheppard is the biggest problem we face with the plan, it still ranks as the best idea we have so far,' Woolsey pointed out.

'Did you not hear the part about them jumping to someone else?' Rodney asked him, looking worried. 'In desperation, they may well try it.'

'Not if they don't know what we're planning to do.'

'They're psychic!' McKay snorted. 'Even thought they can't know what everyone's thinking all the time, what are we supposed to do, try not to think about it as we steer him toward the gate room so we can push him through and shout "Surprise!"?'

'Perhaps if we sent everyone with the ATA gene to the Alpha site before trying to remove him from Atlantis, the Initium would decide it was pointless to seek another host,' Teyla offered, hoping she'd found a situation to the problem.

'But then they'd read our minds about that and head there as soon as we dumped him,' Rodney sneered.

'Or, worse still, he could head straight back here once the sedatives have worn off,' Carson added. 'Didn't he take down the gate shield hen he attacked the control room?'

'Yes, he did, Dr Beckett,' Woolsey replied. 'Which means he could very well choose to gate back here and there wouldn't be a thing we could do to stop him until we get it back up and running.'

'Or if, in the interim, we fix the 'gate shield while he's off-world and they don't know...' Rodney looked pale as he failed to finish that thought. It seemed John was doomed whatever happened. Either the Initium would kill him, or Atlantis' defences would.

'Look, I don't want to throw a spanner in the works here, but unless we find a solution fast, there's not going to be anyone left to feel bad about what happens to the colonel,' Beckett pointed out. 'Since we have no way of incapacitating him that he isn't able to eventually overcome, I suggest we have to take the risk of moving him off world and hope to God we can fix the city before the Wraith show up.'

Teyla watched Mr Woolsey slip off his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose. It was rare for him to show any kind of indecision in front of them, although she'd always suspected he was the kind of man who gave careful consideration to all the pros and cons of any situation. She felt great sympathy for him – for anyone in his position. As the one time leader of her people, she understood the burden of responsibility for the staff under his charge. This decision could be the difference between life and death for hundreds of people in the city, and, if the Initium saw their plan through to fruition, for the billions of people who dwelled on Earth. How could anyone remain detached when faced with such a possibility? Even she would struggle to do that.

'What we need is a way to stop him completely, so that the Initium can't use him, but they can't jump to anyone else either...' Woolsey sighed, pushing his glasses back into place.

Teyla noticed both Rodney and Carson look across the table at one another, an idea clearly dawning on them both simultaneously.

'Rodney, Carson – have you thought of something?' she asked, hardly daring to hope they had finally come up with a workable solution.

Both men let out a near hysterical peel of laughter as they bounced out of their chairs and ran for the door. Then, Rodney poked his head back into the room. 'Follow us!'

Though she was physically exhausted, their sudden enthusiasm was infectious, and she, Jennifer and Mr Woolsey all rushed from their seats to find out what had suddenly given the two men a new lease of life.

* * *

**A/N: So what have Carson and Rodney come up with? You'll find out tomorrow. Thanks again for all the support. It's very much appreciated. :D**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 **

Sheppard opened his eyes to see the ruddy, barren landscape of P5G 598 again. This time, he quickly realised it wasn't real because of the unnaturally scarlet hue, an exaggeration that hadn't been present on the actual planet when he'd visited it. He felt somehow detached from his corporeal body, and briefly wondered if this was what it felt like to ascend. After the pain he'd just been forced to endure, it didn't seem like such a bad option. But no, the Initium would never have allowed him to ascend. That would make him a usurper, wouldn't it?

_You are not worthy of such an escape. Besides, we are not finished with you yet._

'Oh, good. I was hoping I wasn't alone here,' he drawled, but he couldn't see her – them – yet.

_Do not speak to us that way, Sheppard. You should show us the respect we deserve and perhaps we will make this easier on you. _

'You want me dead,' he reminded them. 'I'm pretty sure death is unpleasant however you deal it out when the victim wants to live.'

_That's true, but we could still make your passage easier._

'Go to hell!'

Balls of golden energy appeared around him, swirling in the dry, dusty air. He couldn't count them, there were too many of them moving too fast for him to focus on them to that degree. It made him dizzy to even try.

_You did well today, Sheppard. With the cloak gone, the Wraith will be able to enter to city and take their fill of your kind. You will, of course, survive long enough to fly them to Earth._

'Yeah, not exactly my proudest moment...even if I didn't have choice.'

_You are helping to restore the universal order the stupidity of your ancestors threw into chaos, _the Initium told him, as if that was something he could draw comfort from.

'Funnily enough, considering the lives of billions of people are at stake, I don't feel all that good about that,' he retorted, feeling a warning sting as one of the orbs brushed against his arm.

'Nice try,' he spat. 'But after what I just went through, that really doesn't hurt.'

The swirling energy balls seemed to glow redder, then a shape began to manifest again. Perhaps his challenge had made them believe he'd forgotten just how much trouble he was in and they needed to dumb it down for him some more.

The silver haired woman appeared before him, brow furrowed with a frown. 'Why are you so determined to make this harder for yourself?' she asked. 'What is it that drives you to feel such guilt...such a need to rebel even when you know the fight is lost?'

'Oh, I don't know. I guess it's my humanity...my pledge to protect others...you know, those pesky little things that make us so much better than you.'

Surprisingly, she kept her composure, staring back at him with something nearing understanding. 'You are angry with us – '

'Damn right, I am! How dare you use me to kill my own people? If you're so all-powerful, why don't you get your own hands dirty? Oh, sorry. I forgot; you don't actually have any hands, do you?'

'We have no need for such a weak corporeal vessel,' she told him, but something in her tone told him that, just perhaps, he'd struck a nerve.

He tilted his head and squinted at her accusingly. 'You guys have always been this way, haven't you? You've never had a solid form like the Ancients had.'

'That is irrelevant –'

'Is it? Or maybe you're just a little bit jealous that you can't experience life the way they did...the way we do now. Perhaps you're a little put out that supposedly inferior beings with "weak corporeal vessels" were able to ascend to a level of existence just like yours.'

'We are more than you could ever hope to be –'

He folded his arms over his chest. 'Yeah...yeah, so you keep saying, but so far I'm yet to see any real evidence of that.'

'We have destroyed the cloak protecting this city –'

' – with my help. You couldn't have done that without me. Not exactly all-powerful, is it?'

Her eyes blazed now, his insolence igniting her anger. 'We are the Initium. We have always been, and always will be.'

'You know, you people could really use some new material, because those lines are getting old. And you can't intimidate me with that stuff any more. If you know anything about us humans, it's that we'll fight until our last breaths. There will be people fixing the city as we speak, and no matter what you do to it, they'll keep right on fixing it up again.'

Her expression hardened. 'They can try, but we still have you. Time to wake up now, Sheppard. You have more work to do.'

...oooooo...

This time, when Sheppard really woke, he wasn't in the infirmary, or the cells. This time, he was chained up in a small square room, lacking the Ancients' usual flare for architectural flourishes, and with no control panel on the inside of the door.

Added to that, he was lying on his side on the cold floor with his hands cuffed behind his back and his arms pinned to his body with thick chains that dug into the flesh of his upper arm where his weight pressed on them. Unfortunately, having no control over his body meant he could do nothing to alleviate his discomfort, trapped as he was until the Initium chose to move him.

Thankfully, they did that quite quickly, and he rolled onto his back and sat up with unexpected ease, his eyes taking in the room more clearly now and recognising it as a vault they had discovered when exploring otherwise unchartered areas of the city some two months ago. It was a tiny room that had a thick door and controls with an incredibly complicated locking mechanism and coding.

_Smart move_, he thought, as the Initium continued to move his gaze over the meagre view.

_This will not hold us, _the voices assured him, spoiling his momentary sense of victory.

So, he was manacled, chained up, and locked in a vault with walls a foot thick and a door at least half of that. He hoped their confidence was misplaced. At that point, he also noticed the needle in the back of his hand, to which a bag of morphine solution was still attached, hanging from a stand beside him. Oh, crap! So the meds were having no affect any more? This was not good...not good at all.

_You must get out of this room and stop the repairs to the city, _the voice told him. _We need the cloak to remain disabled._

_Well, I'd love to help you with that, but since we're pretty much stuck in here_... he pointed out.

His legs began to push him back across the cold, smooth floor until his back hit the rear wall. Then, using its support, he began to push up to his feet.

_We will persuade your friends that you need help. They are just outside the door._

_They're not dumb enough to fall for that again. You used that tactic last time, remember?_

_Hit the door._

Sheppard instantly ran at the door so fast his IV tore itself free, the stand crashing to the floor, and rammed his right shoulder into it, sending a bone crunching jolt through his whole arm. He wanted to rotate it to lessen the pain, but instead, he just thumped it against the hard surface again...and again...and again. _Damn! That hurt!_

'You're wasting your time,' he heard Lorne's voice call from the other side of the door. 'We're not gonna let you out. You're staying right where you are until we figure out a way to get you out of the colonel.'

'It's me, Lorne,' he heard them force his voice to reply. 'Where am I? What's going on?' Okay, that was scarily convincing, he had to admit.

Voices, low and hushed, spoke outside the door, obviously not convinced by his act. He silently thanked all those out there for having that much sense.

'Hey! Why am I locked in here?'

'I think you know the answer to that...Sir.'

He hoped that form of address was just force of habit and Lorne wasn't hedging his bets. He really didn't want any of them thinking it might be him talking for even a second.

'My IV line is out and I'm in pain. Maybe you could just get someone to fix it for me.'

A pause followed, then the voice changed. 'I know that's not Sheppard talkin', 'cos he wouldn't expect any of us to risk ourselves doing that, so save your breath,' Ronon growled.

Inside Sheppard, the Initium began to rage. He could feel their fury that they couldn't outwit mere humans. 'Ronon?' his voice called out.

'I said, save your breath.'

'No...it's me buddy. You got a heavy detail out there?' the Initium forced him to ask.

Ronon hesitated, clearly wondering if he was speaking to the real Sheppard or not. Then he said, 'I think it'd be a mistake to tell you that, whether you're you or not.'

Sheppard inwardly smiled, grateful for his friend's caution. Of course he shouldn't discuss that. Thankfully, Ronon's brains weren't as addled as his were.

The Initium, however, were far from impressed. 'It does not matter. You have stood between us and our goal. Now, we will make you pay.'

Outside, he heard something thump against the cell door. He imagined it was Ronon's boot. 'You're pissed at us? You've shut down our defences against the Wraith, and taken over my friend's body to do it. You don't even come close to how pissed I'm feeling right now.'

Sheppard didn't doubt that. The Wraith had been Ronon's tormentors through seven years of solitude; a race of beings who not only created them, but then sacrificed people to them had to score pretty highly on the Satedan's list of most wanted.

'Besides, Lorne says there's no way you're getting out of there, so you're gonna have to take your anger out on those walls.'

Sheppard felt a bolt of panic shoot through his stomach, and his chest tightened. _No...don't assume that. They_ _could find a way out. You have to be ready for it!_

A wave of dizziness suddenly overcame him and he fell against the door, managing to twist around and slide his back down the door until he was sitting on the floor, his chains scraping all the way down.

'Sheppard. You still with us?'

Deep within him, he felt heat begin to build, hot intense, as if he was combusting from the inside out. It hurt, but he knew he wasn't the one in trouble. Whenever he got this feeling, the Initium invariable took drastic action against anyone in their path. While he still had the capacity to speak freely, he had to warn Ronon.

'Yep...still here,' his voice grunted, watching as a link in the chain around him creaked, twisting before his eyes. _No! That's not possible._

'Hey...Sheppard, if you can hear me in there, 'cos I know it's pretty crowded in your head right now...I just wanted you to know I'm sorry...about your legs, you know?'

Sheppard heard the guilt in his friend's tone even as his pain continued to mount. _I know, Ronon,_ he thought, his head thudding back against the door as the burning sensation peaked. He was hot...so hot...he felt like he might burst into flames at any moment. What he wouldn't give to be able to dive off one of the city's piers and into the ocean right now.

More links began twisting, glowing orange and searing his scrubs and skin. He could smell his flesh burning just as he had in that horrible white cell they'd formed around him back on that planet...just as he had when he'd woken with those nightmare recollections in the infirmary.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the first link break apart and completely give way, the chains holding him loosening. _Oh, crap!_ His own thoughts were paralysed by pain and fear...yes fear. He never liked to admit he was frightened, but right now, there was no question of it. The pain of his last exit from the cells had been appalling...like nothing he'd ever been through before. The memory of it was still so strong, he knew that if the choice were his to make, he wouldn't be able to force himself to leave that cell unless the very future of Atlantis depended on it. But right now, the city's future depended on him not getting out. Ronon knew that, and would stop at nothing to prevent the Initium from enabling the Wraith to take the city. Unfortunately, Sheppard suspected the Initium understood that now, which put Ronon in a very dangerous position.

Balls of energy now burst from his body, super heating what remained of the chains and allowing them to break and fall way. He shook them free, choking back a cry as the smell of smouldering skin, hair and fabric filled his nostrils, making him gasp for cleaner air. The energy bursts continued to pulse out of him, shaking his body and leaving him weakened. He fell to the floor on his hands and knees, panting as they continued to exit his body with eruptions of pounding energy. He had never imagined there were so many of them inside him. They swirled in the air above him and he could hear their whispered comments, still belittling him, still keeping him suppressed with self-doubt. And they were right. He was weak; if he hadn't broken down in that original cell they would never have been able to infiltrate him and hitch a ride back to Atlantis. Everyone here was going to die and it was all because of him...

He stopped himself, realising he was allowing them to influence his thinking now, just as they had there. But so many of them had left his body he no longer felt their suffocating hold over him. Maybe he could move now; he was trembling in a way that suggested his body was now his own. He tried to get to his feet, but the burns were so painful he could barely shift before he was crying out and giving up. But he had moved...and he'd screamed. Enough of them had left his body to give him some freedom.

This was his opportunity. He could warn Ronon that they were coming.

'Ronon!' he shouted, coughing as smoke and the taste of blood irritated his throat.

'Sheppard?'

He had his attention...whether he would believe him or not was yet to be seen.

'Ronon...get ready. They're coming out!' he yelled, his arms buckling as those few remaining Initium still lurking within him punished him with a mind blowing pain behind his eyes.

The energy balls swarmed, spreading across the surface of the door. They seemed to sink right into it, the surface beginning to warp and ripple in front of him. What had previously been at least six inches of solid metal, now behaved like malleable rubber, bending and stretching, changing shape, just as those walls in the cell on P5G 598 had when he'd pushed against them. It seemed impossible, but he was watching it with his own eyes. There was no denying their capabilities; they were actually manipulating the fabric of the vault now.

From outside the cell, he heard a dull thud, and figured out it was Ronon's energy gun blasting the melting door. The Initium were susceptible to his weapon fire, so it made sense to attack them while they were exposed, but it didn't stop them. There were simply too many of them, and they were willing to sacrifice themselves to ensure the door gave way.

_It is no real sacrifice because we do not die, _those within him explained_. The bonds between our atoms are separated by the energy pulse, but they eventually reassembly and we become as we were again. You will never be free of us._

'Dammit, Ronon. You'd better be ready for them!'he screamed as he watched the door begin to break apart. In only a few more seconds, the hole in the metal had warped wide enough for him step through, but without the Initium to drive him on, he didn't have the strength. He could only watch in horror as the energy beings reassembled into hundreds of separate entities and bombarded the security detail now firing on him. He ducked, shielding his head, feeling bullets burning into the flesh of his forearms and legs as he squatted, some of them cracking against his bones. He cried out, the pain feeling all the more real with the Initium's hold on him thus reduced, then he realised that defending himself was helping the enemy, so dropped his arms from his head...but it was already too late. Most of the armed marines were already incapacitated. A few remained, shouting orders to one another, calling out to fallen colleagues to test for a response. No one replied, but their calls gave away the positions of those still conscious and the Initium silenced them too.

And then, the Initium began to return to him, buffeting his body as they reassumed their residence and retook control. He rose to his feet, the aching in his injured legs not deterring them from moving him forward. Somewhere deep inside, buried beneath the evil obsessive behaviour of the Initium, he felt shame for what he had done to these men. How could this keep happening? Why couldn't anyone find a way to neutralise these bastards?

A thud on the back of his neck sent him staggering forward, but he regained his balance, spinning and finding Lorne behind him. 'Sorry, Sir, but I can't let you leave this area.'

'You cannot stop us!' his voice hissed. _But try anyway!_ he thought.

A blow to his kidneys from behind swayed him, and now Ronon was there, thankfully unscathed after the Initium's assault. 'Sorry, Sheppard. But you know how this goes.'

_Yeah, yeah...I do._

Lorne smacked him upside the head with the butt of his weapon, cringing even as he did it. _Don't you dare feel bad, Major_, Sheppard thought, as the major swung the butt of his gun at his ribs, cracking at least one of them with the force behind the blow. Before he could recover, Ronon spun on him and thrust out his leg, kicking him square in the stomach. He staggered back into the wall, winded and in pain, listening to the sound of the first few bullets departing his body and hitting the metal floor beneath his boots as the repairing skin and tissue forced them out. The Initium had turned him into a freak show. He sure as hell hoped someone found a way to make them pay for this.

Another marine bolted forward as he stepped toward Lorne, slamming him back into the wall. A fury was building within him, one that didn't belong to him, but demanded release through him all the same. A scream erupted from Sheppard's lungs, and an inhuman strength seized him as he grabbed hold of the man's uniform and flung him clear across the corridor. The man slid to the floor, unconscious.

_No!_

But the Initium hadn't finished yet, and he launched now at Ronon, punching him in the face and splitting his lip wide open again. Lorne shot him in the back, somewhere up under his right shoulder blade, and he tasted blood as it instantly rose up his throat and filled his mouth, but it didn't slow him. He turned, grabbed hold of the gun, and wrestled it from the major's grip. Then, holding the barrel, he swung it into Lorne's head, sending him sprawling.

_Oh, crap! Lorne I'm so sorry!_

A roar reminded him that, though Ronon had been stunned by his punch, he was most definitely not out. The thrum of an energy pulse hit him, yet barely even shook him. So he ploughed into his friend, driving him back until he hit a protuberance in the wall. He knew it had hurt him, but the Satedan was as stubborn as his Initium passengers, and simply would not back down while he still had the strength in his body to stand. And now the Initium wouldn't come out to attack because they knew Ronon's weapon could reduce their numbers and weaken their hold on his body.

The Satedan brought his forehead down sharply into Sheppard's face, cracking him on the nose. The pain was blindingly bad, and the heat of blood running down his top lip matched the warmth of the sticky patch growing on his back. He was losing a lot of blood from his various injuries. If the Initium didn't work fast, he would pass out from blood loss alone...he hoped.

When the stars cleared from his vision and the fog lifted from his mind, he realised he was punching his friend again, the chipped bones in his shoulder grating against nerves with each agonising swing of his right arm. But even with the injury, his blows were devastatingly effective.

Ronon began to slump, his body only held up by the grip Sheppard retained on his leather vest. His face was now no more than a mass of cuts and bruises, and as his friend gurgled out a cough, spraying him with his blood, the Initium finally let him go.

He fell to the ground, face down and didn't move from there.

_Oh, God! How could you make me do that to him? _Sheppard mentally screamed at them.

_He stood in our way. All who do will fall._

A tear streaked down Sheppard's cheek, the only function he could apparently still master. He wanted to gather up his friend and tell him he was sorry, that he should have been stronger, but he couldn't...they wouldn't let him.

Instead, they turned him round, and wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand, they set his legs into running mode.

...oooooo...

'We should have thought of this sooner.'

Rodney rolled his eyes, holding back on the urge to slap Zelenka around the back of the head. 'Yes, Radek, we should have. Isn't it remarkable how much clearer a solution becomes when you can look at it with 20:20 hindsight?'

'Now children, play nicely,' Carson chided, smirking as he walked along beside them, his medical kit in his hand at his side.

Rodney grunted in protest at his joke as he steered the trolley he was pushing around another corner, then asked, 'And remind me why you're here again.'

'Well, you don't know how Colonel Sheppard and the Initium will react to this process, so you might find you need me.'

'If this doesn't work, we're going to need more than your voodoo to save us,' McKay retorted, pushing his shoulder to the back of his load. 'Did one of you put rocks in this thing as a joke?'

'Why don't you let me push that for a while,' Radek offered, trying to take hold of the handles.

'Because knowing you, you'll drop the damn thing and then we'll have to waste time fixing it again!' McKay spat back at him.

'Rodney...' Carson warned.

'Well, if you'd come up with your "genius idea" before now, we wouldn't need to transport this so far...or fix the city's cloaking capability,' the Czech muttered.

Rodney fairly prickled at the comment. Okay, so perhaps it had been a mistake to make himself sound so clever when he'd told Zelenka what he had in mind. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that it had come back to bite him on the butt.

'Look, I am well aware of the state the city is in, so if you would just shut up and help me get this thing down to where Sheppard is as quickly as possible, we might well be able to get back to fixing things before I collapse from sheer exhaustion.'

'I have offered to push –'

'I'm pushing...okay?'

'Simmer down, boys,' Carson told them again, trying his best to calm the situation. 'We're all tired and stressed, but fighting amongst ourselves isn't going to help anyone.'

Though Rodney knew he was right, he didn't appreciate being preached at when he felt as crappy as he did. So Carson felt the venom of his sharp tongue, too. 'Well, thank you for that guidance, Dr Phil. Should I pay for this session now, or can I put it on the tab?'

'Rodney...please,' Carson practically begged.

One looked at the Scotsman's pitiful blue eyes soon cooled his ire. 'Okay...I'll be good,' he promised. 'As long as Captain Critical here backs off.'

The Czech huffed, then nodded his agreement.

The sound of Teyla's voice in his earpiece now interrupted him. _'Rodney...where are you?'_

'We're on our way down to the vault now.'

'_I will meet you there.'_

'Huh! Should've sold tickets,' Rodney sniped, but he shut up at the sight of Carson's eye-roll.

Teyla had left them to their work once they had said it would take a while for them to be able to transport their load down to the vault. Although it had been working perfectly in-situ, they'd had to attach a mobile power source, and that wasn't the kind of thing that could be done in a matter of seconds. Teyla had said she needed to check on Torren and would join them later, and although Rodney had wondered how she could be bothered to play mommy at a time like this, he'd put it down to one of the great mysteries of the maternal instinct he'd heard others talk about, and so had kept his thoughts to himself.

Woolsey had also made his excuses not to be present, opting to oversee the teams initiating repairs to the city's defence systems, while asking them to keep him updated. Apparently, he didn't want them to feel neglected, but Rodney doubted they would have time to feel anything of the sort. Still, with the substantial security detail currently watching over the vault, and the three of them and Teyla on their way, it would be crowded enough down there without Woolsey's presence cluttering the place up even more.

'How are the power levels holding?' he panted to Radek, who quickly typed in a command on his datapad, which they had earlier linked to their precious cargo, and checked the readings.

'Holding steady. As long as it doesn't take any major knocks on the way there, it should be all right,' he replied, pushing up his glasses as he squinted at the display on the device.

'Well, I don't mind telling you, being near this thing gives me the creeps,' Carson told them, visibly shuddering as he spoke. 'It brings back some very unpleasant memories.'

'Yeah, well, watching Sheppard taking down dozens of marines is even creepier, so right now your revulsion doesn't concern me.' After seeing the hurt expression on Carson's face, he added, 'No offence intended.'

'None taken,' the doctor grunted, though he wasn't completely convincing.

Eventually, the trio reached the transporter to take them down to the vault, Radek tutting as Rodney bumped the wheel of the trolley into the doorway. He straightened up the trolley and guided their load inside, while Carson set them on their way.

'You know what, Radek...you can push the damn thing if you think I'm so bad at it,' he snapped, releasing his tenuous hold on the handles at last.

'Oh, I see. A moment ago I was only good enough to take readings, but now –'

'_This is Teyla. I've just arrived at the vault and the colonel is gone. Many personnel are injured. I need all available medical personnel to the vault as soon as possible.'_

The three men only had time to glance at one another for a split second before the transporter doors pulled back and a form bundled into them, sending Rodney and Carson flying in its wake as it thudded into their delivery and sent it rolling back in the transporter, almost crushing Zelenka, who barely managed to throw himself clear.

Sheppard turned, pulling himself up straight and looking at what he had fallen into, some part of him clearly recognising the stasis chamber he had once been frozen in for a thousand years. The Initium within him reacted to that memory, turning him round to attempt another escape.

Rodney looked over at Carson, who lay on the floor a few feet away, and saw the determined nod that signalled he understood what Rodney was thinking. Together, the two of them bowled into Sheppard, knocking him off balance and sending him tipping back into the pod.

'Radek!' they screamed, but the Czech had already anticipated their needs, activating the pod the instant the colonel hit the back of it.

The blue stasis field rippled into life, freezing Sheppard's furious expression as the Initium realised they had been outwitted and trapped.

There was no sound, not even a single breath as the three men stared at him, waiting to see if he would move again. But the field appeared to be holding. The colonel was frozen – removed from the normal laws of space and time.

'Radek...readings?' Rodney panted, breaking the silence.

Radek edged closer, pulling up data from his hand-held computer. 'Life signs are strong. Power is holding steady...I think we have him...them!'

'Knew it would work,' Rodney bluffed, dusting himself down. The sound of Teyla's startled cry still almost made him jump out of his skin, no matter how nonchalant he tried to be.

'Rodney! Are the three of you all right?' she gasped, running to join them. 'When I realised you would be here soon I feared the worst.'

'Well, as you can see, we have everything un...der...con...trol.'

Teyla was no longer listening to him, her gaze fixed instead on Sheppard's rigid form. 'He looks so different, so unlike himself. What have those monsters done to him?' she sighed, tears glistening in her eyes.

'We don't know,' Carson responded, putting an arm around her shoulders. 'But this buys us the time we need to figure out how to get them out of him without the Initium doing him or the city any more harm.'

'And the time for us to repair the city's defences,' Radek added, and he and Rodney exchanged a panicked glance. 'Which we really should be doing right now!'

Rodney felt his whole body wilt. One crisis over, but there was still another huge catastrophe to avert. A scientist's work was never done.

'Come on, Zelenka. Let's go lock Sheppard in the isolation room and then save the day.'

'I should probably go and help the medical team if you boys are all right with that,' Carson told them, looking torn between his need to support them and his in-built desire to treat the sick and injured.

'Go do your doctor stuff; we'll be fine,' Rodney assured him, peering over Radek's shoulder to check the readings from the pod with his own eyes. Not that he didn't trust the man, but...well...no actually, he didn't trust him ...or anyone else where things like this were concerned.

'Carson, Ronon is lying injured near the vault and is in need of your care. I would come with you, but he asked me to take watch over Sheppard. He gave me this.' She pulled Ronon's magnum out from under the back of her jacket. 'He knows it isn't complete protection, but the Initium seem more reticent to attack when he uses it.'

'You go with these two, then, and I'll see that Ronon's all right, love,' Carson assured her, and he darted away, clutching his stethoscope to his chest to stop it bouncing against him as he ran.

Teyla gave both Radek and Rodney a furtive smile. 'Shall we proceed?'

Rodney nodded, containing his threatening burst of hysterical laughter at the sight of the tiny Athosian carrying a gun that looked like it should be too heavy for her to even lift. How screwed up was his life when he had to rely on the mother of an infant to defend him against someone he considered one of his best friends?

That was the Pegasus Galaxy for you. Just when you thought things couldn't get any weirder, they went and did just that.

* * *

**A/N: Well, they have him contained, but now what? You'll have to keep reading to find out! :D**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 **

From the shelter of the observation room balcony, safe in the knowledge he was ensconced behind a thick, protective sheet of unbreakable glass, Richard Woolsey looked down on the furious statue-like form of Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard and felt physically ill. He'd been standing there watching the man for over half an hour now, waiting for news that the city was now safely cloaked again, and he had to wonder what he hoped to achieve from this pointless vigil. The colonel was going nowhere, and even if he did, he was ill-equipped to stop him.

Woolsey understood the concept of stasis – that anything held within the field generated by the chamber was effectively taken out of normal space and time and suspended indefinitely in that nano-second in which they were frozen – but staring at the fury of the Initium etched across Sheppard's normally relaxed features was an incredibly unnerving experience. It looked like he could move at any moment, and several times Woolsey's eyes fooled him into thinking he'd seen the man twitch. After everything that had happened over the past day, his nerves were shot to hell.

Just to prove that point, the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him made him start, but it was only Jennifer, arriving to update him.

'So, how many casualties?' he asked, looking back down at the colonel.

'Twenty-four of the marines are injured to a degree that I've had to remove them from active duty. Three of them are critical, but with the right care they have a fighting chance of pulling through. Ronon being Ronon has discharged himself, but he's in no fit state to be on his feet, let alone standing guard outside the isolation room, which is exactly where I just found him. Teyla's down there trying to persuade him of that right now, but I don't think even she'll manage to change his mind.'

'No...he's certainly a very determined young man.'

'Well, to some degree it's a good thing. From what I've heard, it was Ronon's intervention that slowed Colonel Sheppard down long enough for Rodney to arrive with the stasis chamber. If he hadn't done that, we could be in a lot more trouble than we already are.'

'Oh, don't worry, I'll make sure there's a note on his file recognising his efforts, _if_ we survive all this,' Woolsey assured her. 'Of course, what I really want to know, though, is what we do with Colonel Sheppard now?'

The doctor shrugged, looking down at the colonel with more than a hint of sadness. 'Well, we're really no wiser as to how to deal with the Initium, and Rodney and his team have no time to work on the issue right now. I guess we will have to leave him as he is until we can come up with a permanent solution.'

Richard nodded, trying to think of something...anything...they might be able to do to persuade the Initium out of the colonel and off Atlantis. In all the hours he'd spent contemplating the problem, he'd even considered promising to set them up as a deity among the crew, enforcing a rule that they be worshipped at least once every day by every crew member, but realising just how crazy that idea made him sound, he'd quickly dropped it. The Initium were single-minded in their hatred of the Ancients and their descendents; he doubted anything he offered would deter them from their current course of action.

'Dr Keller, could you please advise Dr Beckett that I need him to be on standby to move the city should we have the cloak up soon. I have a feeling the Wraith may not be fooled even if it is repaired before they arrive.'

'Of course.'

She turned to leave, then stopped and faced him again. 'You know, the Initium could have killed all those marines outright if they'd wanted to, and Ronon, too. Why do you suppose they didn't?'

That was something Woolsey had been giving some serious thought to as well. And he had a theory...one he really didn't like to think about.

'I believe they are ensuring our survival to provide as large a source of on board nourishment for the Wraith as possible before they make their trip to Earth and begin their incursion. There's no other reason I can think of for them sparing us when it's so obvious they could have wiped us all out in the blink of an eye if that had been their choice.'

Jennifer simply gaped back at him, fear robbing her face of its natural healthy glow. Then, she gathered herself. 'Well, that makes sense. The Wraith will need all the strength they can get to make their initial attack. Okay...uhmm...well...I should get back to my patients.'

He nodded his acknowledgement and returned his attention to Sheppard's suspended form. As Jennifer left, he heard the soft tones of Teyla speaking with her briefly outside before she now stepped in and joined him. For quite a time she simply stood beside him in silence, and he glanced down at her hands gripping the rail from the corner of his eye, her knuckles white with either tension or anger.

Eventually, he decided he should speak to her. 'I imagine this is very difficult for you...for all of the colonel's team.'

'It is. I barely recognise his face any more. I have never seen his features twisted by such a level of anger as this. I cannot comprehend how this Initium believe they have the right to do this to him...to any of us.'

'No, neither can I,' he agreed, wishing there was more he could say, but what could he say? Although he had every faith that McKay and his team would soon have the city's cloak up and running, that still didn't solve the problem of how to force the Initium to release the colonel from their grip. 'I'm sure Dr McKay and his people will figure out some way to solve the colonel's current condition once they have more time to apply themselves to the problem,' he told her, though he wasn't sure of that fact at all, even as he said it. Platitudes, they were all he had to offer this woman, who was too polite to tell him they were no use to her. He was redundant here...out of his depth and completely reliant on other people to furnish him with solutions.

'I worry that there is no way we can match the power of such beings,' she said now, her voice barely audible and cracking with bridled emotion. 'And the Initium say John is aware of all that is happening. He will be so distressed by all this, the danger he has put Atlantis in, the injuries he has caused to friends and colleagues...this goes against everything he stands for...'

'I know...I know...' Richard placed a hand on her shoulder, unsure whether the contact would be welcome. He wasn't very good at this kind of thing, and always felt he was imposing on people when he made such gestures. 'But I don't believe that any living creature is omnipotent. There will be some way of stopping them or removing them, we just haven't found it yet.'

Teyla did not move away from his touch, so he assumed she took some comfort from it. He left his hand there for what felt like an appropriate length of time, then withdrew it and tugged his jacket straight. Teyla showed no sign of having noticed its removal, seemingly lost in thought.

Then, she turned to him, a new light brightening her eyes. 'Mr Woolsey, I think I may have an idea. I cannot be certain it will work, but I believe it to be our best hope.' She glanced over her shoulder, looking anxiously toward the colonel. 'Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private.'

Though Woolsey knew Sheppard was frozen and inert, as were the Initium within him, he understood Teyla's unease when talking with him so close by. They couldn't know for certain that the Initium weren't still functioning at some level, perhaps able to see and hear what was going on around them even if they were unable to make Sheppard act on it. 'Of course,' he smiled, gesturing toward the doorway to give her permission to leave. 'Ladies first.'

...oooooo...

Sheppard writhed on the dusty ground of P5G 598 as his muscles contracted, screwing his body up into a ball. The Initium had been punishing him for what felt like an eternity, their rage, now having no other outlet, turned entirely on him.

He didn't understand. His last memory was of stumbling into the stasis chamber, a terrified Carson and Rodney cowering before him as his body made one last lunge for freedom. Surely he should be frozen now. Didn't the brain freeze up, too?

_Time means nothing to us. You are freezing as we speak, but we can make you suffer a lifetime of agonies in one thousandth of a second. And we intend to do so._

Dozens of energy orbs buzzed him, scorching his skin. He closed his eyes, telling himself over and over, _This is all in my mind...this is all in my mind._

_And the brain is where your body truly experiences pain, _the Initium taunted._ The thalamus forwards the messages simultaneously to three regions of your brain: the physical sensation region that identifies and localizes the pain – the somatosensory cortex, the emotional feeling region that experiences suffering – the limbic system, and the thinking region that assigns meaning to the pain – your frontal cortex. You forget, we designed this form. We know exactly how to make you feel your worst._

The elderly female form manifested in front of him, her Wraith-like white hair blowing across her lined face.

He lifted his head to look her straight in the eye, defiant despite his pain. 'Yeah, I noticed you have a real talent for that kind of thing...'

'A little more stimulation for your limbic system, I think,' she growled, and once again he was contorted by agonising ripples of electrical pain.

He gritted his teeth and rode the wave of pain until it crested and subsided again, leaving him groaning in the dirt at her feet. How long could a thousandth of a second really be? He knew people said time passed differently in dreams, and he supposed this state of technologically induced unconsciousness was something similar, but surely this had to end soon. The prospect of being frozen again had never seemed so appealing.

Still, if he had to lie here and take this punishment, it wouldn't hurt to get a few shots of the verbal kind in himself.

'I guess you're mad that we "inferior beings" came up with a way of trapping you. That must really dent that cosmic ego of yours.'

An orb shot through his back and out through his front, cooking his insides on the way through. He cried out, clutching the exit wound. In here, the Initium didn't need him to heal quickly. No, in here they were happy to let him suffer because e was no longer of use to them.

'You should have told us there was such a device on Atlantis. We could have ensured its destruction before it was used had we known of its existence.'

'Sorry, but I'm due to have a run in with that thing in...oh...about forty-eight thousand years time, and I really have no desire to relive the experience. I guess I blocked it out.'

The female frowned, apparently confused by his excuses.

'That's right. I guess you're not the only ones who can manipulate time,' he sneered, enjoying the small sense of equality her bafflement gave him.

'That is hardly the same thing,' she spat, and again he was wracked by electrical currents sending spasms throughout his muscles.

_Come on stasis! Kick in. Kick in! _he begged, lying trembling before her, sweat soaking his body.

'You poor child...you have such a meagre understanding of what you are fighting,' she sneered, crouching before him. 'So we are in a trap, but we are still within you. For us to remain trapped, you have to remain trapped with us.'

'When I'm frozen, I won't care. I doubt the same can be said for you. Thwarted just as you were about to quench your ten thousand-year-old desire for revenge. Now that's gotta sting.'

Another orb seared its way through him, leaving a smouldering patch on his imaginary scrubs. _This is inside my head, I should be able to shut this out somehow, _he told himself, and just as he thought that, the burning sensation immediately stopped.

Unfortunately, that fraction of influence he demonstrated did little for the mood of the Initium. The woman burst apart into the dozens of energy orbs making up her sum, all of them swarming around him and through him, encapsulating him in a way that left him short of space and breath.

Then, he began to rise, lifted clear of the ground by their collective power. He tried to imagine himself back down to ground level, but this time they anticipated his thoughts, filling his mind instead with images of rising higher and higher, soaring in the hot scarlet air above the rocky pillars.

_We suppose you think you are clever now you have affected that one small thing, _the voices hissed, a chorus of them all speaking as one. _But you cannot exercise control over us, not even here inside your own mind._

The speed of his ascent took his breath away, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. But he could still hear the voices, as clear as ever inside his head. _If you are in stasis we have no further use for you, John Sheppard_, they told him. _But we could kill you, right here in your mind. It isn't difficult. Do you think your friends will leave you in stasis then?_

It took some effort to force out his voice against the pressure building in his chest, but he managed to scream back, 'They know...not to take that risk...with you still inside me. When will you learn...we're not as dumb...as you seem to think?'

_We shall see,_ the voices hissed back. Then they asked, _You like to fly, don't you, John Sheppard?_

He didn't answer; they already knew that much about him...that much and a whole hell of a lot more.

_I wonder if you will enjoy falling just as much._

He'd known what they planned to do with him as soon as his body had left the ground, but for some reason he'd clutched onto the vain hope they would change their minds. Now, he was suddenly engulfed by white noise and a sense of weightlessness, staring up at the red sky as he free-fell backwards toward the ground. How many thousands of feet above the ground had they taken him? No...they hadn't really done this. If he had any hope of surviving he had to completely convince himself he wasn't falling...something that would have been much easier without the wind tearing at his hair and clothes. He'd always wondered what it would be like to have a chute fail after ejecting, but only in an "I hope to never actually have to find out" speculative kind of way.

_Stop thinking like that. This isn't real...this isn't real!_

Twelve seconds...that was how long it took a single person in free-fall to reach terminal velocity. He had to be approaching that now..._No...NO! STOP THINKING YOURSELF TO DEATH, JOHN!_

But he knew it was useless to try not to – there wasn't anything he could say to himself that would convince him this wasn't going to be a fatal fall because he could hear the voices constantly whispering, telling him he was going to die. Maybe this was the only way out for him...the only way to be free of the Initium at last.

He screwed his eyes shut and waited for the impact.

And then...

Nothing.

...oooooo...

The planet was just as Teyla remembered it as Lieutenant Andrews flew the jumper above the surface of their destination. All around was verdant landscape...a veritable paradise, and she was instantly filled with a sense of inner peace.

The lieutenant brought them in to land a short walking distance from the village they knew lay near the clear waters of the lake. The waters, always pure and untainted, provided them with all they needed for drink hygiene and irrigation purposes, and their crops were always abundant as the full fields proved even now.

It felt like only yesterday when she had last made this journey, but in truth, five years had passed. She hoped that the somewhat difficult relationship they had shared with the guardian of this planet would not stand in the way of her plan. This was perhaps, after all, John's only hope of ever being rid of the Initium.

For protection during the journey, the stasis chamber had been placed within a packing case and was now being carried by four men, Ronon included. Teyla doubted his fitness for the task, but he had insisted, needing to play some part in what they hoped would be a solution to their friend's problems. Rodney had asserted John shouldn't be left behind, not even with a couple of marines posted to watch over him. The chamber's status needed to be constantly monitored, and apparently he didn't trust Teyla to gain them an audience without being present, too, so they all had to go along.

'Anyone else reminded of the end of _The Empire Strikes Back_?_' _Rodney suddenly piped up as he checked the reading from the pod once more. 'You know – that scene where Boba Fett has Han Solo transported to his ship encased in carbonite?'

'Yes, Rodney. The only obvious difference being this is _real_,' Carson said, his voice weary with fatigue as he trudged along, his heavy medical kit causing him to stoop under its weight.

'Just making conversation,' Rodney grumbled. 'And for the record, could I say once again that this is a total waste of time.'

'We don't know that, Rodney!' Carson retorted, flashing an apologetic look Teyla's way. 'Teyla can be very persuasive when necessary. If anyone can put forward a good argument, it's her.'

Teyla's calm evaporated. Although Carson's comment had been intended as supportive, it brought home the fact that this whole plan hung on her ability to persuade the woman they were on their way to see to help them. The pressure that realisation put on her was stifling, but she told herself to stay calm, concentrating on centring her equilibrium and regaining her composure as she breathed in the planet's cleansing air.

They broke into the clearing where the villagers' thatched huts sat within a comfortable distance of the banks of the gently rippling, unpolluted lake.

The inquisitive villagers all looked their way, offering warm smiles and ceasing their activities to follow in the unusual group's wake. Teyla wondered if any of them recognised either her or Rodney...Rodney in particular having made an impact on these peaceful people on their last visit. She suspected many of them would as they apparently had so few visits to Proculus due to its orbiting Stargate.

Spotting the red robes of one of the abbots, she guided the group in that direction, pleasantly surprised as he turned to face them and she saw it was Zarah.

He walked forward to meet them, greeting Teyla with a broad smile. 'Teyla, what a surprise to see you again.'

'It has been many days, Zarah,' Teyla smiled in return, respectfully dipping her head. 'Perhaps too many.'

His gaze drifted to Rodney, a little of the light leaving his sparkling eyes. 'And Dr McKay...what brings you and your friends to Proculus again?'

'We need to speak to Chaya. It's important,' the scientist snapped, clearly unwilling to indulge in idle chatter with the man.

'We were hoping you could intercede on our behalf, Zarah...make the approach for us. We are afraid Chaya did not feel welcome among our people when we last saw her, but despite that we are certain she will wish to help us with an urgent problem we now face.'

Though he looked genuinely puzzled, Teyla was glad Zarah had the tact not to ask for an explanation when she had said it was so important. 'I am certain the High Priestess will have no problem with meeting with you, but I will happily make the introductions once again. I see you have a heavy cargo. We will provide transport for it.'

'No, need,' McKay smirked, 'we already have transport way faster than anything you can provide. Perhaps you'd like to ride with us?'

The abbot looked perturbed.

'It is perfectly safe, and we will be able to make the journey to Chaya far more quickly,' Teyla said to reassure the troubled man. 'Our need really is quite urgent.'

After only a second more of hesitation, the smile returned to his face. 'Of course. If you lead the way, I will follow.'

Teyla couldn't help but worry when she saw the distinct downward slope of Ronon's shoulders as he bore his friend's body back to the jumper. This all felt almost...funereal, and she was suddenly reminded of watching Carson's coffin being carried toward the Stargate for its journey home to Earth.

'Teyla...are you all right, love?' Carson asked, touching her gently on the shoulder.

She looked into his worried blue eyes, thankful that he had come back to them, even if it had taken Michael's involvement to return their friend to Atlantis. There would be no such rebirth for John if they lost him, and that thought awakened a sick panic deep inside her it was very hard to control.

'Yes...yes, I am fine,' she lied, forcing on a smile. 'I am certain we will soon have answers to this problem. If anyone can help us, it is Chaya.'

They quickly covered the ground back to the jumper, and Teyla gave up her seat in the forward compartment to Zarah so he could fully enjoy the experience, instead taking up a seat beside Ronon in the back of the jumper, grasping his hand in hers. He didn't look at her, but squeezed her fingers in return, swallowing deeply as if striving to hold onto his emotions. She knew he would never actually voice his fears, but he was clearly just as worried as she was that despite all their efforts they were losing John.

With the help of the jumper, they made it to Chaya's shelter in very little time. They all disembarked, Zarah leading the way into her retreat where she spent her days hiding the truth of her nature from the villagers.

Chaya emerged without Zarah needing to announce their presence, still wearing the same flowing sky blue dress Teyla had pictured in her recollections of their first meeting. Her expression remained sombre as she let her eyes roam across all their faces, pausing longer on Rodney's than anyone else's, then she finally looked back at Teyla, who stood at the front of the visitors.

'Teyla. I did not ever expect to see you or your people back on Proculus,' she said, a little of the ice in her gaze melting as she looked at the Athosian.

'We are truly sorry to have to burden you, Chaya, and we thank you for taking the time to see us, but we are in terrible danger, and you are the only one we know who may be able to help us.'

The Ancient turned toward Zarah and gave the man a kindly smile. Thank you for bringing our friends to me, Zarah. You may leave us now.'

'Of course, Priestess. I shall return to the village and attend to my duties. Othara be praised.' The man bowed and backed away a few steps, turning to leave the gathering.

'I could give him a ride back to the village,' Lieutenant Andrews offered, and Teyla was about to suggest that was the least they could do when Rodney stepped in to stop her.

'I don't think that would be a very good idea, Lieutenant. We may need the jumper to make a quick getaway.'

Both Chaya and Zarah looked baffled, but the abbot took the refusal in good spirit. 'No matter. It is a beautiful day; Othara smiles down on me and I am happy to make the journey by foot.'

Chaya watched him depart, not speaking again until she was certain he was out of earshot.

'Why have you come here? I told John when we last spoke that I was forbidden to intervene in the lives of any other humans but the inhabitants of Proculus,' she said, still keeping her voice low to be certain the abbot would not hear them.

'See, I told you this was a monumental waste of time,' Rodney immediately blustered, face red with anger. 'We should have stayed back on Atlantis where I could have at least made sure the cloak was back up.'

'You did not have to come, Rodney,' Teyla said, rather pointedly. To her, Chaya was a kind soul, bound by rules far beyond their comprehension. She didn't deserve Rodney's wrath...at least not yet.

Once certain Rodney was at least momentarily silenced, Teyla addressed Chaya in her own, less confrontational style. 'John explained that to us, Chaya. And I do understand that those rules are important to you...'

'Where _is_ John?' Chaya suddenly asked. She closed her eyes and a breeze blew up around them. 'I cannot reach out to him...I cannot feel his presence. What has happened to him?'

'You can actually do that?' Rodney asked, barely hiding his disbelief. You can stand right here on the planet and scour the whole galaxy for his...what? His aura?'

'Where is he?' Chaya asked Teyla more firmly this time, completely ignoring McKay's cynicism. 'He's in danger...I feel it in your thoughts!'

'That is why we are here. You have an interest in theology, do you not?'

Chaya's normally calm expression was crumpled with impatience, but she humoured Teyla, answering her question. 'Yes, and Dr Weir was very kind furnishing me with so much information from her planet. I was only sorry I could do nothing in return for her kindness. And I was sorry to learn of her death.'

'You know about that?' Teyla asked, shocked at the level of Chaya's knowledge.

'From time to time I reach out to John, just to ensure he is well. It has been harder to do of late – your city has moved a few times and having to find you in such a vast galaxy can take time...but I cannot feel him any more. Please...please tell me what has happened.'

'Do you know of the Initium?' Teyla asked her, determined not to be shaken from her planned explanation.

Teyla instantly saw the recognition in Chaya's eyes. 'Yes. The Initium is an ancient system of belief my people followed from many, many millennia ago. The Initium were supposedly the creative force at work in this galaxy. They made us and the planets and all the other species you will encounter. But then we progressed, and that belief was consigned to mythology, as so many are.'

'Yeah, well, you may wanna pull this one back out of the attic and dust it off, because they're _real_,' McKay told her. 'And now, thanks to you and your kind forgetting about them, they are seriously pissed and taking it out on us.'

For the first time now, Chaya seemed to notice the crate they had brought with them. 'What is in that?' she asked him.

'That is what your lack of faith and respect has brought us to,' he spat at her. Then he unhooked the lid and threw it back, revealing Sheppard still held by the stasis chamber.

Teyla heard Chaya's horrified gasp as she dropped to her knees beside the crate. 'He is right here? But I cannot feel him! It is as if he does not exist.'

'Well, this is what we've been forced to do to him because of the Initium,' Rodney grunted, folding his arms tightly over his chest as he glared at her. 'But, of course, you can't intervene, so you're not interested are you?'

'I...I don't understand. Why can I not feel his presence when he is so close?'

'Because he's in a stasis chamber, it effectively removes him from our time and space,' Carson explained somewhat more gently. 'It was the only way we could stop him from delivering Atlantis into Wraith hands.'

Chaya let her hand hover over Sheppard's chest. Teyla could see her pain, could almost feel it. They may not have seen each other for five years, but it was immediately apparent that Chaya's feelings for John had not lessened in that time.

'He looks so angry...' she breathed. 'I can barely recognise his face.'

'Oh, that's not him, that's the Initium staring back at you. You have a lot in common with them, actually. They're pure energy beings, too, and, not surprisingly, they're equally self righteous bas –'

'Rodney!' Teyla's sharp reprimand stopped him forming that final word. She understood his anger, even felt some of it herself, but insulting Chaya was not the way she had intended to go.

'I...I wish I could help him...help all of you...but the others forbid it.'

'Still hiding behind that old line I see,' McKay snorted, pure venom in his glare.

Teyla looked toward Carson, and the doctor seemed to understand her desire for him to help defuse the tension.

'Rodney, you're looking a bit peaky there, son. Come over here and let me take a look at you.'

'I'm fine, Carson. At least I would be if you stopped grabbing at me.'

'I think I should be the judge of that,' Carson told him, and when Ronon added his heavy hand to the back of his neck, Rodney had no choice but to follow Carson and submit to a check-up.

Finally able to speak calmly with the Ancient, Teyla chose her words carefully, knowing this was her one and only chance of showing Chaya the importance of her help. 'The Initium trapped John during a recent mission. They entered his body without being seen, and have gradually overtaken him until there seems nothing left of him. He is in there somewhere they assure us, still fighting them, but he is not strong enough to break free. The Initium are very powerful.'

When Teyla paused, Chaya nodded her understanding, tears brimming against her bottom lashes.

Though it was hard to add to Chaya's obvious grief, Teyla pressed on. 'The Initium believe your people usurped their rightful place in this galaxy. They have been hunting you across the universe since the time so many of your kind fled from the Wraith. When John travelled to the planet they were residing on, they sensed his heritage and made him the vessel for their revenge. They plan to use him to pilot Atlantis to Earth, carrying the Wraith inside it. They will cull the planet and decimate its population.'

A single tear broke free and rolled down Chaya's cheek, falling onto the field where the surface repelled it and it trickled away. 'But I am forbidden to help him...even if this is our doing.'

'He has suffered greatly at their will, but the worst suffering he could endure would be to carry out their plans – to kill everyone on Atlantis, everyone Earth, and everyone with even the slightest connection to the Lanteans they feel betrayed them so badly.'

Now Chaya raised her eyes to her, and Teyla knew she was beginning to see what she was hinting at. 'You see, Chaya,' she continued. 'We didn't come here to ask just you for help, we need you to intercede on our behalf with the others. The Initium want to reclaim their position in Pegasus...and to do that, they feel they have to rid the Galaxy of you and anyone else who has the potential to become a threat to them. I am asking you to contact the others because the Initium are a threat to them directly. Perhaps they will not intervene on behalf of humans, but to save themselves...?'

She left the question hanging, watching the emotions fighting for prime position on Chaya's perfect features. Eventually, they settled on something Teyla thought resembled resoluteness.

'I am not sure whether the others will listen to me – I have spent so long in exile. But I will try to persuade them of the need for intervention. Be ready for me should I succeed.'

And with that, she disintegrated into tiny, brilliantly shining atoms of energy and swirled away, almost too fast for Teyla to see.

* * *

**A/N: Will Chaya come back with the cavalry? You'll find out in the final part! Thanks for all the support, hopefully it'll help me get those final dits done ready for tomorrow. :D**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 **

Sheppard still plummeted, unaware that he had actually been frozen and only now re-animated some several hours later. For him his imminent death had been an ongoing nightmare without pause.

The energy orbs of the Initium swirled around him as if taunting him even in his final moments, not even allowing him the dignity of privacy in death.

Except he didn't die. Unexpectedly, the Initium pulled back holding static in the air as he tumbled away from them. Then he hit something soft, something warm, something bright and positive that filled him with an instant sense of well-being...of familiarity.

He found himself being placed gently on his feet on the ground that had just threatened to make pizza of him as the Initium swarmed back into the female form they had chosen to assume.

'What trick is this?' she bellowed. 'How did you do this?'

Sheppard watched the swirling tendrils of light lift from around him, then they shot high into the sky, forcing the Initium to break apart and reassemble in its wake.

'Do you think you are strong enough to challenge us now, John Sheppard?' she demanded, sinking down to his level. 'Do you honestly think you can do anything that would hurt us?'

'I...it wasn't me,' he stammered, watching the sky, feeling the residual inner glow his contact with that light had left behind in him. He felt stronger, more certain of himself, he felt like John Sheppard again. 'But I really wish it had been.'

She twitched an eyebrow up. 'So you _do _challenge us?'

He sucked in a deep breath, the sky behind her now brightening and filling him with an invigorated sense of hope. 'You know what? I think I do.'

She strode toward him, thrusting out a hand that penetrated right into his torso, knocking the air from his lungs in a rasping wheeze.

'I hold your life force in my grip, John Sheppard. Do you still challenge us?' she asked, pure cruelty shining out of her luminescent eyes.

Behind her, the redness of the landscape was receding, bathed now in the brilliance of the growing white ball in the sky, which appeared to be heading directly their way. A wind swirled up around them both, but she didn't seem to notice.

As painful as it was for him to speak, he broke out his best smile and told her, 'Yeah...still do.'

He could feel the grip on his essence tightening, feel it being tugged at in a sensation not entirely unlike the beginning of the Wraith feeding process. But the old woman suddenly noticed the light spreading across the ground around her, losing her focus on him and turning now instead to seek out the source of the illumination.

She only had time to take it in for an instant before it picked up speed and slammed into her, scattering her into the various separate entities that made up her whole, the shockwave knocking Sheppard off his feet. His back grated against the rocky ground as he slid across it, hardly believing how something that only existed in his mind could hurt so much.

Above him, white and golden energy orbs did battle with one another, dodging, weaving and colliding in the most beautiful and graceful skirmish he'd ever had the privilege to witness. At least it was beautiful until one of the golden orbs swerved in his direction. punching a hole in the ground just a fraction of a centimetre from his ear where he lay. Another one headed his way, and this time he had to roll to avoid the impact as it drove into the ground, close to where he had been lying. Sensing this was the Initium's new attempt to finish him, he stumbled up to his feet and started running toward the columns of rocks, hoping to find some safety amongst them.

His plan unfortunately back-fired big time when the orbs began slamming into the pillars of stone, sending shards of splintered rock flying in all directions, including his, before slicing right through them and making them fall.

Tiny fragments of razor sharp stone cut into him, and he kept his head down to protect his eyes. Somewhere deep down he felt as if he should be able to wish this all away, they were inside his head after all, but he really didn't want to try it...especially not after his last attempt to instigate some command over things.

He swerved and dived between the needles, avoiding any contact from the orbs themselves, but it was obvious this direction was no safer than being out in the open. He changed route, heading sharp right to try to break free of the crumbling rocks when a pillar to his left let out a resounding crack and began toppling his way. He slid to a stop, ending up on his back in the dirt again, then began franticly trying to scramble away from it, knowing he wasn't going to make it.

He closed his eyes and prayed to whoever was up there listening to finish him off quickly...but nothing happened. When he looked up, he was surrounded by white light again, and the pillar had fallen elsewhere, missing him completely. The light lifted him from the ground where the Initium could harm him and took him up through the imagined atmosphere of the planet, and beyond that into the star spattered skies. Yet this time he didn't feel threatened; this time he felt safe. Again, he was filled with a sense of warmth and comfort, and that feeling that he had experienced this before, somehow...somewhere.

_Hold on just a little longer, John,_ a voice whispered. _We are here to help now._

Although he was exhausted, battered and bruised, hope was now his prevailing emotion. Something else was at work within him, counteracting the Initium and giving him back his sense of purpose.

He watched the mounting battle in awe from his place of protection, enveloped by the light. The white orbs now outnumbered the Initium and were bombarding them, sending sparks of energy showering out in great fountains each time the collided that slowly faded away and died, leaving their afterglow in the blackness. As quickly as one flickered out, another erupted, as if he was watching a 4th of July fireworks display

Sheppard felt his senses returning, his chest loosening, the tension in his shoulders slackening. The Initium were losing their hold on him. These others were winning the fight.

From time to time, a golden orb tried to reach him, but was immediately repelled by his guardian light, then driven away by others. He recognised the white lights now as Ascended Ancients, just like Chaya. Of course, Chaya...

Before he could even begin to feel grateful to her, the Initium all converged on one position, combining in one great flaming ball of power that hurtled toward him, knocking him free of the hold of his protector and leaving him tumbling through space. They swept past him, swirling around and as he twisted over in free-fall he saw what their motion was creating. A black-hole opened up beneath him, drawing him into its dark maw and the oblivion that lay within its confines. It swallowed him up, and he continued to fall out of control, turning over and over as the voices let out a mocking laugh in his mind.

But somewhere up above him, in the midst of that encompassing darkness, he thought he saw a light...

...oooooo...

Sheppard's body convulsed again, his friends helpless to assist him.

'What has it been, like half an hour?' Rodney whined. 'Shouldn't they have thrown those Initium freaks out of him by now?'

Carson tried once again to reach out and restrain the colonel, only to receive a severe shock through both of his hands. 'I can't get near him. There's too much power inside him now. We're just going to have to hope Chaya and the others know what they're doing.'

Rodney looked hugely uncomfortable with the fact they were reliant on the Ancient woman, but Carson knew in his heart she would not allow anyone to harm Colonel Sheppard if she could stop them. He tucked his throbbing hands up under his arms and watched Sheppard from his kneeling position beside the now inactive stasis chamber. The colonel's movements were more pronounced now, he was even making sounds, though none of them good, but Carson hoped this was a sign he might actually surface from the induced comatose state the Ascended Ancients had put him in on entering his body to ensure the Initium could not use him for any further ill deeds.

'So how long are we supposed to just hang around here waiting for them to hand Sheppard back to us?' Rodney piped up. 'These guys can live forever.'

'But the colonel can't,' Carson sighed, watching him thrash against the stasis chamber beneath him again. 'I'm not sure how much more of this his body can take.'

'Hopefully, Chaya will give him strength,' Teyla said, her face showing the tension she felt watching the colonel go through his ordeal. Carson supposed this weighed heaviest on her, as it had been her idea to turn to Chaya for assistance. But he felt certain there had been no other option, and hoped she realised that, too.

'Well, we'd better hope so, because those other ascended types will be too busy saving their own asses to worry about him, that's for sure,' Rodney snorted.

His comment left Teyla looking dejected, and Carson was about to speak up in support of her when Ronon beat him to it. 'This is the only idea that could work, Teyla. You know Sheppard would understand why you did this, right?'

She nodded, but was clearly working hard at stifling a sob. Carson's heart bled for her. This was agonising for all of them, but Teyla was feeling it most of all.

Sheppard's body suddenly jerked violently, and a ball of golden light shot out of him. Carson felt his heart leap into his mouth, frozen rigid by the sight and wondering which of them it would try to strike at first. To his surprise, it didn't attack any of them, but forged straight back into the colonel's body, leaving two smouldering patches on his scrubs where it had exited and then re-entered his body.

'They are killing him!' Teyla whispered, covering her mouth with a trembling hand.

Ronon gripped her shoulders. 'We don't know that. We just have to wait and see what happens.

Carson could see in his face just how difficult it was for Ronon to do that, though. In fact, each of Sheppard's three teammates looked terrible. The pressure was palpable amongst them. It wasn't only the colonel he feared for if things went wrong. He knew the team would take it very badly should they lose him after all this.

The other marines, headed up by Lieutenant Andrews, who had taken themselves away to a discreet distance, now approached, weapons drawn.

'What's happening?' Andrews asked.

'Not sure,' Ronon grunted. 'Some kinda fight, we think.'

'Well, the fact that orb just came out and then went flying straight back into him makes me think it didn't want to be out here,' McKay theorised, screwing his face up in sympathy as Sheppard writhed and moaned again. 'Perhaps the Ancients are getting the upper hand.'

They all started as three more orbs zipped out of his body, and then back in again, again leaving scorch marks to show where they had been. Sheppard choked out a cry, his eyelids momentarily opening before snapping shut again.

'I'm not so sure that's a good thing for the colonel,' Carson told him. 'They're doing terrible damage to his body...and that's just what I can see.'

Again. more orbs erupted from Sheppard's contorted form, then re-entered, making him cry out even in his near fully unconscious condition. Carson rubbed at his forehead, finding it difficult to watch now. 'Dear Lord! This can't be good!'

'He's not gonna make it!' McKay whimpered, chewing his nails as he watched on in horror.

At that point, a strange glow began to build around the colonel clearly another build up of energy.

'Okay, much as I hate to say this, I think we should all move back,' McKay told them. 'Right now!'

They barely had time to throw themselves clear as a huge pulse of energy burst from Sheppard's body, hundreds of orbs all winding and colliding as they soared away toward the sky. They watched them depart at unimaginable speeds from where they had each fallen, frozen with fascination for a few seconds until they were out of sight.

Carson crawled back to the stasis chamber, uncertain of what he would find. The others now scurried back to, each of them peering in to see if the colonel had survived.

Carson could see a substantial hole burned through the shirt of the colonel's scrubs, exposing a severe burn beneath that appeared to cover a huge amount of his torso. Sheppard was conscious, but quite obviously in terrible pain, his face pale and his breathing little more than shallow pants, all the breath his injury would allow him to take.

'Oh, no!' Rodney gasped, falling to his knees beside him. 'Carson?'

Carson was already reaching into his medical kit for his morphine, reminding himself that he should administer normal doses this time, as long as all the Initium had left him.

'John?' Teyla tentatively reached out toward him, touching his arm then snatching her hand back as if she feared the contact might make his pain worse.

The colonel forced open his eyes and rolled them in her direction, the slightest of smiles appearing on his pale features. 'Hey...Teyla.'

Carson pushed the syringe of drugs into Sheppard's arm without bothering to explain what he was doing. That wasn't normally his way, but something told him Sheppard's time with them might be short; he had no wish to waste any of it on medical talk.

'Are you..._you_ now?' Rodney asked him, still unsure what to believe.

'Yeah...s'me,' Sheppard replied, his face screwing up again as pain registered at some level. Carson gave him a little more morphine, relieved to see some of the tension leave his features.

'So what? That's it. They've driven the Initium out and they're just gonna leave him like this?' Rodney squeaked.

Carson passed a scanner over the colonel as McKay ranted. The readings that came back to him showed signs of damage to many of Sheppard's internal organs, damage he knew he couldn't fix, not here nor back on Atlantis.

'Rodney,' he started, but the scientist was in full swing.

'Well, that's just typical. Just so long as they're okay, I guess. Doesn't matter about the poor, dumb human they just used as a battle field!'

'Rodney!'

'What?' he demanded, his face suddenly slackening as he read something in Carson's expression, something he clearly didn't expect or want to see.

'You might want to save your breath for saying more important things,' Carson said calmly, nauseous pain stabbing in his chest as he heard Teyla gasp. 'No!'

Carson watched as John shakily raised his hand and took hold of hers. 'S'okay, Teyla. It's not your fault. You all...did good...real good.'

'But we didn't save you!' Rodney whimpered, now kneeling down beside him.

'Y...you saved th...the city. S'even better.'

'But...but you promised me a rematch on our chess game. You can't duck out on me now!' Carson could see the tears moistening Rodney's eyes, but even now, he couldn't open up and tell Sheppard what was really in his heart. He supposed Sheppard knew...that they all knew what they meant to each other after so long together. No words were necessary to express that.

Sheppard's smile broadened now, calmness descending on him after all the chaos and trauma he had been through over the past few weeks. He looked around at his teammates, and told them. 'It's been a pleasure...guys.'

Then he closed his eyes, his breathing shallowing out and noticeably slowing.

Teyla held his hand between hers, her lip trembling, unable to speak. Ronon, too, was left speechless, lifting his eyes to the sky as if to rid himself if the sight of his friend in this condition.

Then, he raised a finger toward the sky and asked, 'What's that?'

Carson turned to follow the direction he was pointing in, seeing a single white light descending toward them. It was one of the ascended, and he was pretty sure he knew which one as it homed in on Sheppard and gently sank into his body.

...oooooo...

Whiteness.

Pure, calm serenity.

John opened his eyes and blinked a few times. Was this what it was like to be dead? Kind of boring really...in a peaceful kind of way.

'It's good to see you again, John.'

Oh, now, he knew that voice. 'Chaya,' he said, watching her emerge from the whiteness around him. 'I thought I felt you in here.'

'Teyla came to me to ask for help to save you. She is an intelligent woman. She couched her request in such a way that the Ascended had no reason to refuse.'

'Yeah, well, she certainly has her moments,' Sheppard smiled, feeling slightly awkward. He was pretty sure she would remember that he'd promised to come visit some time...a promise he had never kept.

'She knew you needed a force equally as strong as the Initium, and that I was the only one you knew who could possibly bring such forces together.'

'Good thing she thought of you,' he replied, chewing his lip and wondering how best to word his apology.

'I have thought of you often, John.'

And, yes, he already knew that. He'd kind of sensed her sometimes, and now...the way she was looking at him...he guessed the apology wasn't entirely necessary, but it couldn't hurt.

'I'm sorry I didn't come back to Proculus. Things kinda got away from me, what with the Wraith and the Asurans to fight, and so many planets to explore.'

'I understand, John. The burden of responsibility is a heavy one indeed.'

'Yeah, I suppose you would understand that, since defending the people of Proculus is your eternal punishment. So, anyway, not that I'm not grateful for your help, but I thought you Ascended folks were forbidden to get involved with humans and their problems.'

'As I said, Teyla was most persuasive in her argument for our involvement. She pointed out that the Initium had a hatred of all things related to out Lantean brethren, and since we are their ascended kin, it was only a matter of time before they decided to turn their wrath upon us.'

'Ah, so they were saving themselves...that figures.' He tried not to sound too petulant, but the Ascended Ancients seriously pissed him off with their non-interference policy – at least until their own necks were on the line.

'I know you do not approve of their belief that they should not influence human lives in any way, but with power such as theirs, there could be abuse...on either side.'

He knew there was no denying that logic. The Milky Way had had enough trouble with the Ori to know for him to know what happened when Ascended Ancients decided to move among humans again. Keeping their distance might well be the best policy, or they might end up as bad as the Initium themselves.

'John, you do not have to feel bad about keeping your distance from me. The others would never have allowed our interaction as things stood.'

'No...of course they wouldn't.' He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling guilty that she was giving him a get out clause, when he hadn't even considered that. He'd just been...overwhelmed by her, by the thought of having a relationship with a woman so different to him, although it was true that fighting the Wraith and Asurans had kept him so busy it would have felt selfish to spend time away from Atlantis with her.

'But now...things are different.'

'They are?' He didn't understand what she meant as she stepped forward and took his hands in hers. He was still Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Military Commander of Atlantis, and she was still Chaya, and Ascended Ancient. How could things be different between them?

'You're at a crossroads, John. You are hovering at a point in perfect balance to make the choice. Your body is damaged beyond the capabilities of your human medicine, but I am here to help you. The decision you have to make is what help you choose.'

He gazed into her deep brown eyes, and felt a pang of desire awakening. Those few days they'd shared together had been very special to him, and seeing her again only brought that home all the more clearly. And he sensed what she was about to say.

'You want me to ascend.'

'It has to be your choice, John, but I cannot lie. It would make me happy to have you with me always.'

Ascension had never appealed to him until meeting the Initium. And if he did ascend, he could give them hell, just like Chaya and her kind had. It was a tempting thought, as was sharing a new level of existence with Chaya, one free from cares and physical pain. But he had friends he cared about on Atlantis, and he still had work to do to help keep them and the peoples of the Pegasus Galaxy safe. If he ascended, would always be tempted to intervene to help his family on Atlantis, and he knew that would happen – the others would drive a wedge between him and Chaya to punish him for breaking the rules. After all, he would break the rules; it had been his habit all his life.

'You said I had a choice?' he said, asking for the other option without actually putting the question to her directly.

Her shoulders dropped, but she forced on a sad smile. 'With the others busy fighting the Initium, I have time to heal you well enough that you can return to your life.'

He nodded, staring down at the whiteness beneath his feet. In some ways, it reminded him of the cell the Initium had created for him, but here he felt safe and loved – loved by Chaya. But now, just as he had felt those five years ago when he'd left Proculus never to return until now, he felt choosing a life with her would be a selfish act with so many peoples of the Pegasus Galaxy still in need of help.

'I...I have to go back, Chaya. I...I still have so much I need to do –'

She silenced him with a finger to his lips, then leaned in and kissed his cheek so lightly he could barely feel it.

'It is done,' she said, letting go of his hands and stepping back as she turned into pure light and floated away, leaving him shrouded in shadows.

...oooooo...

Breathing a gasp of air into his oxygen starved lungs, Sheppard sat bolt upright with such speed that everyone huddled around him fell back in shock.

He blinked his eyes, clearing mist from his vision, aware of the blood pumping through his veins in a way he never had been before. He was alive...alive and free of the Initium...and crap did those burn marks hurt! Chaya had done as she said, healed him enough to survive, but his sudden movement had done little for the blistered skin on his body, or the ache in his wounded shoulder.

The others slowly clambered back to their feet, and beyond them, he spotted six armed marines aiming their weapons his way. 'Stand down,' he told them. 'It's me this time.'

'You were...you were,' McKay bumbled, scrubbing his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Though he knew Rodney was wiping away tears, Sheppard didn't draw attention to the fact. 'Dead...yeah...a few times recently. But Chaya fixed me up...mostly'

Sheppard pushed up from the stasis chamber on uncertain legs, wincing as pain stabbed through his shoulder blade, Ronon lending his support to help him out and onto solid ground. Before he could say a word, the Satedan gathered him up in his arms and almost crushed the life out of him. He whimpered as the big man's body pressed against his damaged skin and his arms put pressure on his shoulder, then Ronon let him go, giving him two solid slaps on the back before turning away to pull himself together. Much as he appreciated the gesture, that really hadn't helped his pain any.

Teyla similarly pulled him into a hug, though this time it was far gentler, as if she was worried he might break if she held him too tightly. Her face was streaked with tears as she pushed him back, holding him at arm's length and dipping her head. He touched his forehead to hers, embarrassed by her tears. He'd brought her to this, and it hurt him to think that he'd caused that level of pain to Teyla...to all of his friends. Even Carson looked pale and shaken, and a little red around the eyes.

'Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'd really like to go home now. I have a city to move so the Initium can't find us again.'

'You really think you're up to that?' Carson asked.

John understood his concern. After everything he'd been put through, and considering the singed and bloodied state of his scrubs, he supposed he didn't exactly look the picture of health. 'Well, I can't say I'm firing on all cylinders right now, but I'm doin' okay.'

'Well, if it's all the same to you I'll do a quick check-up on you first. I'd feel better if I did,' the doctor admitted. He passed his scanner over him again, his eyebrows climbing at the results it now showed him. 'I don't believe it...that's a bloody miracle.' Then he narrowed his eyes. 'Are you _sure_ you feel all right, Colonel?'

A breeze blew up, swirling around them, and Sheppard sensed Chaya before he even saw her emerging into the clearing where they stood.

'I can assure you John is clear of the Initium now, Dr Beckett. I know that is what really concerns you. He will be fit enough to move your city, but then he should rest.'

Carson smiled, as did all his friends, a palpable sense of relief exuding from them all. He was glad Chaya had taken the time to reassure them. It would save him a lot of time and effort later on. 'That's good to know,' he confessed, 'although getting him to rest isn't always the easiest thing.'

'I imagine not,' she replied giving John a reproachful glance.

'And where are the Initium now?' Rodney asked her, still with an edge of accusation in his tone. Sheppard guessed McKay had never forgiven her for lying to them about who she was when they'd first met, or for denying sanctuary to the suffering people's of Pegasus.

'The others are still battling with them, and may be for some time to come. It would be wise for you to leave and move your city now, while they are distracted by the fight.'

Teyla approached Chaya, hesitating before placing her hands on the woman's shoulders and touching her head to hers. 'Thank you for all you have done, Chaya. Without you, many people would have suffered.'

'You're welcome, Teyla. Now go...get your city to safety.'

The marines collected up the stasis pod to take with them, sealing the lid back on the crate before four of them each grabbed a handle and carried it away.

Teyla gave Sheppard a smile, laying her hand gently on his arm. 'We will give you a moment to say your goodbyes,' she told him, and she, Carson and the rest of his team walked away, Ronon dipping is head in respect of the woman who had saved his friend's life.

Sheppard ran his tongue over his dry lips, feeling suddenly conscious of Chaya's proximity. Seeing her in the flesh again made him wonder if he'd made the right choice, especially when he finally raised his gaze to meet her sad eyes.

'You can never return here again, John,' she told him, taking his hand in hers. 'The Initium will always watch this world and wait for your return.'

'We've put you in danger –'

She put her finger to his lips again to silence him, shaking her head. 'I am strong enough to hold them at bay until the others could join me. The Initium are powerful, but not compared to us. Do not worry about me.'

'I can't help it. I'm a worrier,' he smirked, but he could keep up the smile. 'Do I take it from the fact you didn't completely heal me that you're disappointed with my choice?'

She shook her head. 'I have to be careful, John. The others might come searching for you soon to ensure the Initium have completely left you, and if they find you with no injuries, they will know I intervened. The people of Proculus need my continuing protection – I cannot receive further punishment if it takes me away from my place here.'

'Well, when you put it like that, I guess a few aches and pains are a small price for me to pay,' he admitted.

'Go now...take care of you people,' she told him, letting go of his hand and stepping back away from him.

He nodded, feeling guilty and upset and disappointed all in one great whirl of emotion. So he limped away to join his friends, because he'd made his choice, the right choice in many ways, and he didn't need to be reminded of his doubts any more.

...oooooo...

That evening, after a gruelling flight and a thorough medical and patch-up session, Sheppard stood out on the balcony overlooking the ocean of a completely new planet. The sky had a distinctly purple hue, and was punctuation with thousands of brilliant stars, not a cloud obscuring the wondrous view.

Carson had confirmed his injuries were now fairly superficial; a fracture in his right shoulder blade from the bullet impact, though a clean one with no complications, courtesy of Chaya, a few cracked ribs mostly likely from the force of the various energy beings battling it out inside him departing en masse, and numerous burn marks all over his body, though Carson assured him they would heal quite well with the helping hand Chaya had given them. That was easy for him to say – he didn't feel like someone had set fire to him then stamped out the flames.

After spending so long without free movement, on drugs and strapped to various gurneys, Sheppard had practically begged for Carson to let him recuperate in his room. Besides, sitting in the infirmary, surrounded by all the people he had injured, was hard to take when he'd had so much help to recover from Chaya. With the doctor unwilling to let him off the hook quite so easily, they had reached a happy compromise instead. So after treatment – antibiotic cream, gauze dressings, a shoulder sling and a shot of pain killers, Carson had agreed to let him out to roam for a while, as long as he returned to the infirmary for the night were the medical team could keep him under observation. The good doctor had then tried to insist he let him push him to his chosen destination in a wheelchair, an offer he had strongly declined. He could use his legs again, and he meant to do just that, even if his movements were painful and difficult due to his injuries. Pain reminded him he was still alive, and right now he was happy to put up with it.

It felt good to be in control of his faculties again. Now, he could look across the vast waters, and the infinite expanse of sky broken only by the merest hint of land on the horizon, in any way he liked. He could do a handstand and take it in upside down if he wanted to...although, maybe not _just_ yet.

Since returning, he'd been surrounded by people, all worried for his well-being, and perhaps their own, and he'd noticed a few suspicious looks being cast his way as he'd finally broken free of everyone to take in some fresh air and enjoy a few moments of peace. He supposed that was only natural, considering the fact he'd walked among these people for weeks carrying the alien insurgents without anyone having the first idea anything was seriously wrong. Chaya's word that he was alien-free was good enough for some people, but not everyone, it seemed. But time would prove it to them.

He gazed up at the stars again, wondering which one of them was the sun that blessed Chaya's planet with its warmth. Maybe he'd ask McKay some time when he'd stopped freaking out about the whole debacle. Right now, if he had to hear how bad the sound of his broken legs fixing themselves was for the scientist to listen one more time, he figure he might just end up slapping Rodney upside his head, and then everyone would get all suspicious again.

Ronon had been...well...Ronon, almost entirely silent, but ever-present through his check-up and treatment to protect him should he need it. He'd apologised one for the whole leg-breaking incident, and Sheppard had told him never to apologise for it again because he'd had to try it, and that seemed to ease the Satedan's guilty conscience...at least temporarily. Teyla, as if feeling it necessary to demonstrate her trust in him, had brought Torren to see him while he was eating a meal in the infirmary, allowing her son to sit on the bed with him while they'd competed over his fries. The kid had won, of course, especially since his appetite wasn't up to its usual standards.

Now, he'd made his excuses to have a moment alone and take in the sweet air of P6J 788. Whether this would remain their permanent relocation point hadn't yet been decided, since they were yet to fully explore the mainland and oceans for hidden threats, but for tonight, hidden by the cloak Radek and the science team had repaired in their absence along with the other primary systems, they felt safe enough.

He sighed as he heard the door behind him open, wondering if his team were ever going to feel comfortable with leaving him alone again. 'You know, I really don't need anyone to tuck me into bed, so why don't you call it a night?' he called back without turning.

'Well, I'm very glad to hear that, since it goes somewhat beyond the remit of my duties,' he heard Dr Smithson reply.

He spun to find the women giving him a wry smile from the doorway, where she was leaning with her arms wrapped around her against the slight chill in the air.

'Dr Smithson! I was –'

' – expecting someone else. Yes, I suspected that was the case.'

'My team have been kind of...overprotective since we got back.'

'I imagine they have. You've made a miraculous recovery, yet again. They probably fear that if they let you out of their sight for too long, you might just disappear.'

'Well, I've got no plans to do that.'

He realised she was making no move to leave. He'd kind of hoped she'd just happened upon him and would wish him good night and leave. The fact she was still there meant he might be about to get an unscheduled session, and he could really do without one of those tonight.

She straightened up and took a few steps toward him, allowing the door to close behind her, shutting out the muted thrum of the control room, now operating on the night-time shift.

'So...is there something you want to talk about?' he asked, though he was pretty sure his slightly pained expression said how he felt about that.

'That's usually my line,' she smirked, joining him at the rail and leaning on it as she looked out over the calm ocean. 'Actually, I wanted you to be the first person...well, second, in fact...to know I have handed in my resignation. Mr Woolsey being the first, of course.'

Sheppard felt his jaw drop. Now that hadn't been what he'd expected her to say. That wasn't even on his list of possibilities. 'Why?' he asked.

'I think it's known as quitting while I'm ahead.'

Still puzzled by her decision, he leaned on his one good arm on the rail beside her and said, 'You don't strike me as the quitting type.'

'No, well, normally I'm not...which must have been painfully apparent to you during your hypnosis session...for which I would like to take this opportunity to apologise.'

He gave her a one-shouldered shrug, the whole incident almost forgotten amidst the memories of everything that came after. 'If you hadn't pushed so hard, we might not have found out what was going on, Radek might not have been vigilant enough to find the Wraith beacon, and we could all be an unsuspecting Wraith breakfast in the making.'

'Oh yes, I was forgetting how I singlehandedly thwarted the Initium's dastardly plans,' she chuckled. 'Thank you for that vote of confidence, but I rather think you all could have made it through without my input.'

He shrugged again. Maybe she was right. The net had been closing in, but she'd brought things to a head a hell of a lot more quickly in his opinion.

'You know, when I first read your file I thought you might be a heartless man.'

He turned stiffly to look at her, quirking an eyebrow. 'Oh?'

'You've been through so many terrible experiences and yet you've never sought help from anyone. I suspected you were...cold.'

'And now,' he asked, intrigued to know how her view of him had changed.

She smiled, looking away across the waters again. 'Now I know you're a strong man, willing to give up everything for others.'

'That's a pretty big statement after only two sessions...only one of which I was actually present at,' he pointed out, giving her a crooked smile.

'I was talking to Teyla earlier,' she continued, unfazed by his attempt to joke her compliment away. 'She told me about Chaya, the woman who saved you.'

'Did she now?' he said, his stomach sinking once again at the thought of her face as he'd left.

'She's an Ascended Ancient, I understand'

'That's right.'

'And rather fond of you'

Sheppard felt his cheeks flush with heat. This wasn't a conversation he would be comfortable having with his friends, let alone a woman he barely knew. 'Well...I...'

'A powerful woman like that...and beautiful, so I'm told, must be a real boost to your ego to have a woman like that so besotted with you.'

'I wouldn't say _besotted _–'

'And yet you chose to return to Atlantis and not stay with her...twice now.'

He sighed, wondering again if he'd made the right choice...but knowing he had. The Ascended would never have allowed Chaya that level of happiness. It wouldn't have fitted in with their idea of punishment.

'I still have a lot of responsibilities here...'

'So you put your happiness on hold until a time you can finish them. Like I said, you're a strong man.'

He sighed again, realising he really wasn't as strong as she thought. Right now, he felt a kind of emptiness he wasn't sure how to fill. All of his friends had found someone to share their lives with, and he was beginning to doubt he would ever find the same companionship for himself. The memory of Chaya's sadness when he'd made his choice was forever burned into his memory. He might feel like his love life was in a rut, but it wasn't as if she could just go out and meet someone else. And he'd as good as said she wasn't important enough to him for him to stay with her.

'I can't ever go back,' he blurted out, not sure why he'd chosen Dr Smithson as the person to confide that secret in.

She turned fully to look at him, her face dropping a little in surprise. 'Why not?'

'Because the Initium are still out there, and they'll be waiting for me to show up on Proculus again.'

'I see.' She stared back at him a while, as if unsure how to respond. Then, she simply said. 'I'm sorry.'

'Yeah, well...you win some, you lose some.' But that wasn't how he felt. Not really. He felt like his whole life had been about missed opportunities and loss, and he wished, just for once, that he could win.

'Well, I just thought I should let you know about my decision to go back to Earth the next time the Daedalus docks. I'm sure Stargate Command will make arrangements to replace me, so if you ever do chose to talk about what happened here over the past few weeks, you'll be doing it with someone else.'

'Well, on the bright side, I guess that means you get to retire with your record intact,' he quipped.

'Why do you think I'm quitting now?' she laughed. 'I've finally had to admit that problems in the Pegasus Galaxy come in such diverse forms that an old crone like me might not be the best person to deal with them.'

'I'm not sure anyone's qualified for what we face out here every day,' he pointed out. 'It's not exactly the kind of thing you can train for.'

'True enough, but when you get to my age, learning on the job in this kind of environment is far too taxing. Besides, I don't get anywhere near enough time with that cute nephew of mine while I'm out here.'

'Now that's a good reason to want to go home,' he agreed.

'Yes...and a decision I made entirely for selfish reasons. Because sometimes it's okay to do that, John. You should remember that.'

Somewhere at the back of his mind he heard the voice of the Initium telling him he was worthless, but this time it was just a memory, an echo bouncing around in his head. Of course, it might never have had such an impact on his psyche if it hadn't been what he'd been subconsciously telling himself most of his life. He always put himself on the line, always based his choices on what impact they would have on others because he didn't believe he deserved a happy ending.

'I will,' he promised as he turned and watched her walk away. Beyond her, through the doors he saw his friends hovering, trying to look inconspicuous, though it was clear they were keeping an eye on him. He laughed to himself, turning to take a final look at the view before heading in and joining them.

Maybe Dr Smithson was right. Maybe it was okay to make selfish choices sometimes, but this had not been one of those times. Each one of his friends had played a part in trying to rid him of the Initium, and if he hadn't survived, they would never have forgiven themselves. Whatever it had cost him, this had been the only option he could take.

And that thought gave him some comfort in a galaxy where the Initium still lurked, waiting to take their revenge for the mistakes of those who had chosen to flee the Pegasus Galaxy and continue to follow their own path so long ago, regardless of the affect it would have on others .

* * *

A/N: So there you have it! I hope you all enjoyed the story. A big thank you to everyone who followed and reviewed this story to keep me going while writing it so quickly. And to those of you who have enjoyed it enough to read to the end but haven't commented, give me your thoughts, too. Feedback lets me know what readers enjoy, and so helps me plan for future stories. :D

Also, another thank you to my beta, Sterenyk Strey, for her advice throughout this story, especially for her thoughts to improve this final chapter. You were a big help, as always.

Finally, I'll be taking a break for a few months due to school holidays and real life commitments, so I hope to be back later this year with something new. Take care. :D


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